


Demons of our Past

by Nyubola



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Adventure & Romance, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-05
Updated: 2019-04-12
Packaged: 2019-05-02 12:24:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 15
Words: 40,673
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14544687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nyubola/pseuds/Nyubola
Summary: Cherche joins the Shepherds after the Valmese invasion of her homeland, bringing with her a certain diary holding the answers to the nightmares of an intriguing black-haired swordsman.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> -This story will roughly follow the Valmese arc of the game, albeit I will take liberties at several points. Some of the supports will be respected, the others might be redone.  
> -I will mention references to supports at the start of every chapter, you can read them on websites such fireemblem.wikia or serenesforest if you feel so inclined.  
> -Italic will be used for flashbacks and dreams.  
> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story. You can read whether you played the game or not, but there will be spoilers.  
> -I edited part of the prologue after I published it, thanks to the advices of WritersBlah (on Discord), without who that story would be too lifeless.

**Demons of the Past – Prologue**

"Curse Virion! Of all the days to get assigned to patrol duty."  
  
Thick dark clouds were covering the sky, pouring their contents on the people unfortunate enough to be outside, including the red-headed knight. As the only wyvern rider of Rosanne, she was quite frequently sent alone on patrols around the country, a task that she usually quite enjoyed. Today was an exception, the sudden rain making the flight of her beast slower and troublesome. The darkness didn't help, giving her a harder time to keep watch on her surroundings.  
  
"That damned womanizer. I swear the only reason he sends me on these stupid patrols is to get more space to keep wooing women. Of course today had to be rainy, I bet he's having one too many chuckle from his castle thinking about us." She kept ranting both to herself and her wyvern, attempting to get rid of the frustration welling up inside her. She knew she was being unfair to the man, he couldn't have known that a storm would suddenly hit the country, however nobody but the flying beast could hear her anyway. Besides, for all his flaws, she knew the man wasn't malicious.  
A loud cry suddenly escaped the maw of the black wyvern as she turned her head to the rider, or at least as much as heir reins allowed her to.  
  
"What was that, Minerva?" The rider pulled on the cuir-bouilli restraints to slow down the beast and carefully monitored the lands below. She soon recognized the source of the creature's distress: a couple of hundreds of meters further, she noticed several torches advancing on a lone cart, cornered near the river bank that marked the border between Rosanne and its neighboring country, Chon'sin. She tensed up, uneasiness spreading up through her body. People definitely were up to no good, and it seemed she would have to be the one to deal with it. She could tell the wyvern shared her agitation, the beast was staring at her with insistence, slowly switching her course to the scene below.  
  
"I see them. Let's go!" She let go of the reins, grabbing the weapon strapped to the beast's saddle. Despite the woman's slender, or at best average build, it was a massive battle axe almost as tall as her and passed down through generations in her family.  
  
The wyvern flew at full speed towards the commotion. As they drew closer to the scene, she noticed five thugs wearing ragged attires threatening a couple of middle-aged merchants. Two of the bandits were standing in the back, bows in their hands. The wyvern rider slightly changed their course to aim for them. The earth briefly shook as the creature landed on the closest one, cruelly digging her claws inside the man's back. The rider made full use of the general surprise, using her wyvern's momentum to cleanly cut through the second ruffian's neck. His body collapsed as the survivors turned with bewildered eyes. Minerva was already in the air, landing between the merchants and the bandits, protecting them with her massive body. They walked back a few steps and turned tail in an attempt to flee. They were never given the chance however, the wyvern's towering wings catching up with them before they made any meaningful distance.  
  
Her rider jumped down from her back, leaving the axe strapped to the saddle. Three bodies laid around them, their blood soaking the mud they were laying on. The beast scampered to the closest one, opening her jaw as she stopped above him. Cherche followed her, pushing the wyvern's head without any fear. "Don't eat them yet, Minerva. I still need to check on their bodies."   
She frowned as she reached the first one: burnt by the creature's fire as he tried to flee, a nauseating stench was emanating from his charred body. She didn't bother inspecting the body, deciding the other two would have to be enough. Besides, most of its outfit and weapons were destroyed. Gashing wounds and bite marks welcomed her as she walked to the other ones. Neither of them had a pulse, which was hardly a surprise: struck in the back as they ran, they didn't offer any resistance. More intriguing was the red fork was stitched on each on their clothes. Probably the symbol of their band, she thought. She stood up and gently tapped the wyvern's back before walking away. "Stay here, Minerva."  
The knight could feel queasiness spreading through her body, but attempted to fight through it. While she abhorred killing people in cold blood, she knew they would have returned to their business before long if given the chance. Besides, she had no way to bring prisoners along. Looking to her side, she caught her reflection on the river's troubled waters. Her deep pink colored eyes were the same color as her hair. A black outfit covered most of her bodies, leaving her back and the sides of her legs open to the air. She was wearing plate armor, keeping the exact same spots uncovered. The armor extended to her neck, from where two metal parts stood, shaped like wyvern wings and protecting the sides of her head. She frowned: some of the bandits' blood had sprayed on her face. Crouching, she attempted to wash most of it, shivering at the contact of the river's cold water. Once satisfied, she stood up, heading to the surviving couple, busy bringing their cart back on the road.  
  
She raised her voice as she came close, her wyvern staying behind to not cause needless fear. "Are you both unharmed?"  
  
The merchants wore long tight dresses, clothing typical of Chon'sin. The man turned to face the wyvern rider as she spoke, while the woman tried to calm their two horses. "Aye. Thanks to you Milady. Were it not for you and the wyvern, we would have been lucky to even keep our lives." The man had replied in typical Chon'sinese fashion, both old-fashioned and direct while remaining polite.  
  
"Are you two merchants? What were you doing in Rosanne?"  
  
"Aye, again. We sold some of your city's last harvest and bought some of your people's goods. Hopefully they'll fetch big good prices when we return."  
  
The rider brought her hand to her chin, pensive. "Weird. Bandits are rather uncommon in Rosanne. It's a small country."  
  
The woman fidgeted behind the man, visibly uncomfortable. She eventually raised her voice. "With all due respect, Milady, they weren't Rosannian thugs. I recognize the red fork on their clothes, they're from Chon'sin. I'm afraid there are more of them left hiding in some nearby forest."  
  
A somber look appeared on the man's face. "They're the ones who killed our daughter. I didn't think they'd still be here by now, it happened more than ten years ago. She went out for a picnic with her friend and…"  
  
"Dear! Quit bothering Milady with our misfortunes, this is no concern of her." The woman had interrupted the man before he was done speaking. The knight's curiosity was piqued, however. Perhaps they'd have more information on these outlaws.  
  
"Quite the contrary, in fact. I wish to hear more, if this is fine by you. As a payment for my timely rescue," she added with a smile.  
  
The man brought his hand to the back of his head, rubbing it slowly, as the woman walked to the cart, skimming through its goods. "'Tis the least we can do, I suppose. Her name was Ke'ri. She was always glued to a slums boy, named Lon'qu. We disapproved of it, of course, he was just some poor boy that our daughter happened to take a liking in. Still, we decided to let her do as she pleased, she seemed happy…"  
He paused, seemingly unsure how to proceed, as he scratched his head even more furiously. He needed a few moments before being able to speak again, his rhythm now much more hacked than it ever was.  
"Well, that fateful day… They left for a picnic by the side of this same river. It was pretty common, really. They'd always go out to some place or another. They… They got ambushed by the very same ruffians that attacked us. The boy was good with a sword, and our girl loved taking fencing lessons from him, but there were too many of them. When the militia came to the scene… Our daughter was amongst the bodies. She died to keep the boy alive, he told us as much. 'Tis our greatest shame, really. We blamed the boy instead of the ruffians, and he fled the country out of guilt. Heard he crossed the ocean and reached Regna Ferox. It's only when we found our girl's personal diary and realized what a good friend he was to her than we understood we were wrong."  
  
The woman was back, a book in her hands and squirming again, seemingly having trouble looking the knight in the eyes. "Say, Milady, do you happen perchance to leave Rosanne, during your missions?"  
  
The redheaded woman nodded, feeling a bit confused. "It did happen and will most likely happen. Why the question?"  
  
The man turned to look at his wife for a few seconds before giving her an approving nod. The woman walked forwards, holding the diary up for the knight to pick. "We know it's a long shot, but we don't know anyone else who'd have a more realistic chance. Could we ask you to hand Lon'qu this diary and tell him we are sorry, if you ever happen to meet him?"  
  
The wyvern rider grabbed the book and placed it under her arm, in an attempt to protect it from the rain. "Of course, I don't mind. You are good people, both of you. Blind misdirected hatred is the cause of far too many ills in the world."  
  
The couple climbed on the cart, the man giving one last look at the knight. "You give us far too much credit, Milady. Might we learn your name, so that we can praise it when we return home?"  
  
"Cherche. My name is Cherche."


	2. New Demons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Italic is used for flashbacks and dreams.  
> -While the website lists it as chapter 2, it is in fact chapter 1 because the previous entry was in fact the prologue. It might be confusing, but it will be the same for every following publications considering I don't think there's any way to change these numbers.  
> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.

**Chapter 1: New Demons**  
_"No, I can't do this! I refuse to leave you to your deaths."_  
_"You can, and you will. This is an order, soldier, not a request."_  
_Cherche froze, taken aback by the commander's severe tone. The middle-aged man had always called her by her name and been friendly with her, just like with any of his troops. In return, he expected everyone to call him by his name, Delion. Despite this warm and gregarious demeanor, he was one of the most respected man in the Rosannian army, devoting his life to serve and protect his people. For him to speak in such a manner indicated he would hear no objection. The young woman recognized she wouldn't be able to change his mind and bit her tongue, however painful it was to her._  
_"Good. I expect to find you on the walls by the time our men are done with our last preparations."_  
_"Yes, Commander!" She saluted and took her leave. As she moved away, she noticed a robbed man entering the office, a red tome in his hands._

 

*

  
  
"You seem distracted, Cherche." A familiar voice reached the young woman's ears, tearing her away from her thoughts. She didn't need to turn her head to recognize it, it belonged to Delion. The man's voice was much warmer than it was an hour ago however, she noticed.  
  
"You know full well what is on my mind, Delion," she replied, her gaze directed to the vast plains below them. Rosanne, albeit small, was a most prosperous country, relying on its agriculture and naval trade to flourish. That was until the Valmese invasion occurred, of course: in front of Castle Virion's ramparts, domain of the ruler of the country, was approaching the army of the Conqueror. Originally a small country, Valm quickly rose to power under the command of Walhart, relentlessly conquering his neighbors and said to aim for the subjugation of the world. While Cherche would have usually dismissed such tales as folks exaggerated rumors, the colossal army massing in front of them proved they might just have the means to do so.  
Only two hundred soldiers remained to defend the castle. All volunteers, they had for mission to buy as much time as possible for the rest of the people to flee the country. Led by Virion, they seized every ship available several days ago to prepare an exodus to Ylisse, the continent across the ocean. She tried to avoid overthinking it, focusing on the army while numbing her mind. Most people nearby were familiar figures, with whom she trained for more than ten years. And yet, every single soldier left behind was fully prepared to die, sacrificing their lives to protect their people.  
  
"We spoke about it, Cherche. Rosanne needs someone to report to its lord once we fall," Delion finally replied.  
  
She knew better than to argue. Being the sole wyvern rider of the country, courtesy of her trip inside Wyvern Valley a dozen of years ago, only her would now be able to reach Virion with all the ships gone from Rosanne. Still, her frustration was steadily rising: she despised the Valmese for taking her home and family, and her orders for making her abandon her friends. Most of all, she was angry with herself for being so powerless.  
  
The man kept speaking, seemingly unphased by the woman's silence. "Two hundred deaths to save the lives of thousands. Sounds like a damn fine trade to me." He dropped that line almost casually, in a matter-of-fact way. Too casual, she thought. She snapped, abruptly turning to her commander.  
  
"I'm fully aware of what is expected of me. I'll carry out my orders, but don't expect me to like it one bit."  
  
"You are looking at it the wrong way." The man paused, letting the words settle in. Far from soothing her, the statement only further irritated Cherche. She knew the commander was attempting to comfort her, and it didn't please her one bit. She would have much rather preferred being left alone to numb herself. Needless conversation would only deepen the wound left when the time of the separation came.  
  
"Please… Don't patronize me. You know me too well to expect me to fall for this."  
  
"Far from me that idea, Cherche. In fact, I was hoping I could ask you a favor. Once you're done with your mission, I can count on you to make Walhart pay, right?" A small confident smile now played on the man's face. She had to admit the man knew her far too well: having been her mentor since she was ten, Delion quickly became a second fatherly figure. She couldn't help but smirk in answer, relieved by the man's words.  
  
"Do you even need to ask?"  
  
The commander shrugged, then moving his eyes to the approaching army as he placed his hands on the ramparts. "No, I suppose not." He seemed contemplative for a moment, but soon resumed his speech. "I heard Minerva turned twenty yesterday. How long have you been together now, ten years?"  
  
The woman smiled at her dear friend mention, a small blush creeping upon her cheeks. The wyvern fidgeted below them, too massive to fit on the wall to help the defenders. Several bags were strapped to her saddle, containing her belongings and the necessary supplies for the travel.  
"Eleven, in fact. I got her an entire goat for her birthday."  
  
"Oh, right. I imagine she was thrilled about that."  
  
"Hee hee! That's one of her favorite meals. You should have seen her jumping around in her enclosure, just like back when she was still my baby." The wyvern was without a doubt a doubt the closest friend of the woman. More than a pet, she considered her as a sister and the creature answered in kind, despite its monstrous appearance.  
  
"Good, good… Make sure to take care of her, alright? It's a fine beast." The tone was melancholic, revealing faint hints of regret. She suddenly felt guilty for her previous outbursts, complaining about having to live while all the soldiers around were expected to die.  
  
"She's the one that take care of me, Commander. And I promise to live and avenge everyone, so make sure to watch over me, from wherever you will be." She extended her arm forward, her palm opened. The man hesitated for a split second, considering the gesture offered by the knight before answering in kind. Reaching for her wrist, he grabbed it by his hand as the woman did likewise. It was a traditional Rosannian salute, a symbol of profound respect between people about to say farewell.  
  
"Attagirl." He eventually released his grasp, the woman following his example. "Well, we still have a battle on our hands. Let's take down as many of them as we can, it might just make the job easier for you later."  
  
She returned a silent nod in answer, returning her attention to the approaching army. They would be busy before long.

 

*

 

It wasn't even close. Not only the enemy outnumbered the Rosannian troops by fifty to one, each of them proved to be trained enough to be more than a match for the average soldier. While the castle offered some protection against the downpour of arrows and magic thrown their way, countless siege ladders soon found their way against the walls. Steadily climbed by the assailants, there seemed to be no end to them: strike down one of them and three took his place. The defenders fought with a strength only desperation could offer, but Cherche could notice their numbers inexorably being reduced. She lowered her axe as she struck down one of the Valmese soldiers, his corpse now adorning the wall like so many did before him. The bodies of the dead and injured soldiers made any movement on the fortifications difficult and risky, one false move being more than likely to result in an untimely death. She could feel the exhaustion in her entire body, they had probably been under attack for a couple of hours now. She was panting, out of breath, barely able to lift her axe anymore. Misery quickly overtook her body, there was no simply no end to them.  
  
"Gods… please give us strength." A sudden unknown feeling coursed through her body, that her brain took a couple of seconds to register as pain. She lowered her head to find the source: from behind, a spear had found its way through her left shoulder, the bloodied tip now showing on the other side of her body. A cry of pain escaped her lips as the weapon was forcefully pulled out of her. In a fleeting moment of lucidity, she spotted Delion cutting through her aggressor.  
  
"Go! I gave the order, you need to leave now!" The whole situation felt surreal. Clutching her shoulder with her right hand, barely keeping hold of her axe, she looked to the court below them. Only two living figures were there. The robbed mage she encountered in Delion's office a few years ago was running towards the oil-filled storehouse, holding to his fire tome for dear life. Just right under her, Minerva was shrieking, ready to take off in the instant. Unable to muster the strength to answer Delion, she hastily nodded in his direction and jumped from the wall. The wyvern was quick to meet her, which lowered her pain as she unceremoniously landed on the creature's back. She barely had the time to put away her axe next to the saddle before she held on onto her friend, able only to keep her eyes open as the wyvern darted away from the castle. A loud explosion suddenly blew the storehouse apart, quickly followed by yell of pains as flames steadily progressed through the keep. It had been Delion last orders: if they couldn't enjoy their country anymore, then neither would the enemy. Tears of pain raced down her cheeks as the cries of agony withered with the distance. Keeping her eyes open was an ordeal as her vision became blurrier by the second, her consciousness quickly fading. Suddenly, her surroundings went black as she slumped onto the wyvern, the burning castle was the last image her mind picked up as she succumbed to the exhaustion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again, thanks for reading the second chapter of this story. I hope you enjoyed it, despite the darker tone of this chapter. Next chapter should be here tomorrow, then the following one on the next Sunday. Take care everyone.


	3. Nightmare

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Italic is used for flashbacks and dreams.  
> -While the website lists it as chapter 3, it is in fact chapter 2. It might be confusing, but it will be the same for every following publications unless I manage to not list the prologue as a chapter.  
> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.  
> -Apologies for being one day late, I ran into computer issues that prevented me from releasing the chapter yesterday.

**Chapter 2: Nightmare**

  
A still blue ocean stretched below Cherche as she opened her eyes. Confused, she tried to figure out where she was and what she was doing there when a sharp pain in her shoulder brought her back to reality. Under her, Minerva had suddenly dropped down a few feet to avoid a sudden gust of wind flying past their way. The rider brought her hand to her shoulder, feeling a warm liquid drench her hand as she reached for the source of the pain.  
She was perplexed, staring in disbelief at her crimson hand as dizziness overcame her, starting to blur her vision. "This is my blood?"  
  
Cherche shook her head, looking around in an attempt to recollect the past events. Behind her, she could discern a distant expanse of land that they were flying away from. On one spot, it seemed several columns of black fumes reached the sky. Her chin trembled as she fought the tears starting to fill her eyes, her right hand gripping her injured shoulder. She suddenly remembered everything, from Delion's orders to the blaze that burnt the castle down.  
  
A loud shriek of concern tore her from her thoughts. She shook her head, turning her focus to more pressing matters. "Sorry, Minerva. I'll take care of my wound now."  
  
The coast wasn't too far yet. It meant they weren't flying for too long, a dozen of minutes at most. Hopefully, she hadn't lost too much blood yet. Leaning on the creature to keep a hold of it, she reached for one of the pouches attached to the wyvern's harness. Wincing from the effort, she managed to make contact with its contents. With enough fumbling, the knight finally felt one round-shaped flask under her fingers. She hastily grabbed it, opening the Vulnerary with a trembling hand. The rider brought it to her lips, drinking the sour liquid in one gulp. She wiped her mouth with a frown: while she could feel the pain lightening, the potion was as distasteful as she remembered it to be. Somewhat relieved, the bleeding slowed, she laboriously placed the empty bottle back in the bag. Several seconds later, it was bandages that found their way into her hand. While diminished, the bleeding still had to be stopped, or at least contained. Grunting, Cherche rolled up the clothing on her left shoulder and cut what she needed of the bandages with the help of her teeth. While she had experience as a cleric during her childhood, before she met Minerva, applying first-aid to oneself under her armor still proved to be a challenge while having impaired movement. Once done, setting the bandages back in the bag proved to be yet another ordeal.  
  
The whole process left her exhausted, feeling more and more lightheaded by the second. She slumped on the saddle, mustering what was left of her strength to speak up. "I'll rest for a while now. Yes… Resting sounds nice."

 

*

 

The contact of a rasp tongue on her cheek brought Cherche back to her senses. She slowly opened her eyes, only to be greeted by Minerva's stinking breath. "Ugh… When was the last time I brushed your teeth again?"  
  
An angry cry was her answer, the wyvern then turning its back to the knight out of indignation. She let out a small giggle, about to apologize, when the sound of waves nearby interrupted her. "Wait… Where are we?"  
  
Groaning, she stood up while holding her injured shoulder to take a better view at the environs. She was quite taken aback by the sights: they stood on a small island, surrounded by water. The island, which was more of a big rock considering its modest size, was rather flat. Beaches and a handful of rocks encircled a small patch of grass, not larger than a hundred feet, on which Minerva seemed to have landed. With no trees for cover in sight, Cherche felt relieved it was already evening, meaning she wouldn't be bothered by the sun. She turned to the wyvern, who now laid on the grass few feet away from her. She guessed they had landed on the first isle the creature spotted to recover. "You're tired, right? We can stay here for a while, if you need."  
  
Miverva let out a quieter than usual roar, her eyes closed. A faint smile formed on her face as she tenderly looked to her friend. She owed her life to the wyvern and had always heavily relied on her since they met. It didn't take long after they met for her to consider it her closest friend. Cherche walked to the beast and unsaddled it, grabbing one of the bags from it. She rummaged through its contents, settling on a loaf of bread and cheese she brought from Rosanne. Having food fill her stomach was a relief, she had not eaten since morning and to say the day had been exhausting was an understatement. With some of her energy restored, she grabbed an apple from the bag and crouched in front of the wyvern, still asleep, and left it on the ground. She knew Minerva could still go without food for a while without being too bothered, not needing to eat as often as humans did, but the knight figured a small treat would please her friend when she would wake up. While the wyvern usually only ate meat, preferably alive, she had grown to develop a soft spot for apples that Cherche started to hand her as rewards. With a contented smile she stood back up and walked to the side of the creature, only to inelegantly let herself fall against the beat's black scales. Removing her armor proved to be more tedious than usual because of her impaired movement. Still, she felt somewhat relieved as she was freed of her left spaulder. Not only did it seem the bleeding had stopped, the wound didn't appear to be infected, for now. Nevertheless, not bringing any alcohol along to clean it had been a mistake. She knew she had to get the injury treated the soonest possible before the situation further deteriorated.  
  
Leaning against Minerva tough scales, she closed her eyes, hoping to catch some much-needed rest. Before long, she was fast asleep, her breathing synchronized with the beast.

 

*

 

_Visions of a voracious blaze filled her mind. She looked to be alone, lost in an empty courtyard, surrounded by the flames. And yet, hollow wails of agony pervaded the place, forcing the rider to bring her hands to her ears to block what she could of the sounds. She staggered through the stifling heat, desperately trying to find an escape. What was happening, why was she back in Castle Virion? The adrenaline helped her move forward, a single corridor revealing itself in front of her among the flames as she wobbled through. The smell of charred flesh was nauseating, causing her to nearly stop and throw up on multiple occasions, her body shaken with continuous dry heaves. After what seemed to be an eternity, a vast clearing appeared in front of her. Hope filled the knight: at the center of the clearing stood Minerva, its back turned to her. Dropping her hands to her sides, she ran to her friend, oblivious to everything that surrounded her. As soon as she touched the wyvern however, it vanished into thin air, replaced by a familiar man. Cherche let out an audible gasp, involuntarily taking a couple of steps back, startled by her commander's lifeless eyes. "Delion? But, I thought you were dead!"_  
  
The man slowly lifted his arm as if it took a heavy toll on him, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Coward! You left us to die!"  
  
Startled, she tried to move back as Delion slowly closed the distance, unable to answer her former commander.  
  
"You are the reason we died, I shouldn't have saved you!"  
  
"No… no, I'm sor…" A sudden familiar feeling interrupted her. She looked down to her chest to notice a bloodied spear piercing her heart, relief filling her mind as life exited her body.

*

She woke up with a loud gasp, frantically bringing her hands to her chest. She stopped as she noticed Minerva curiously watching her, its head tilted to the side. It seemed Cherche was unharmed, despite the pain still present in her shoulder. It was still very early in the day, the sun slowly rising in the horizon. She shook her head and tried to gather her thoughts, then standing up and going to fetch her friend's saddle. She decided not to make any mention of the nightmare, hoping to simply get it out of her mind. She walked back to the wyvern with a warm smile, trying to hide her discomfort. The faster she could leave this island, the better. "Did you sleep well, cutie? Hopefully we can catch up with Virion and the others today."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Next chapter should be released on Sunday, despite the one day delay I had today. Let me know if the chapters are too short, I'm going for about 1500-2000 words most of the time for now because it feels natural enough to me, but I could merge several chapters together if it turns out it's simply not enough. Thank you for reading, see you next time!


	4. Broken No More

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Italic is used for flashbacks and dreams.  
> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.  
> -From now on I will capitalize direct references to the game like items and classes (I already did so in the previous chapters, for items such as the Vulnerary).  
> -There is a reference to Virion and Cheche's B support in the chapter.

**Chapter 3: Broken no more**

  
Today was a most sunny day. So sunny, in fact, that Cherche deeply appreciated the gentle sea breeze blowing on her body as she rode Minerva. The sight of Port Ferox below them was a relief: she and the wyvern had been on the move since a couple of hours now, and she wished to get her injury tended to before long. From her vantage point, Cherche could observe the streets bursting with activity. While far from being a country as wealthy as Plegia, this city was still a major point of entry to the continent. Tall stone walls surrounded the city, pierced by a single massive gate where every caravan, departing or arriving, were inspected. A single wide stone road starting from the gateway disappeared in the horizon, surrounded by a handful of farms. Cherche knew it was quite an uncommon sight in the country, for it wasn't her first time in Ylisse: while the soil of Regna Ferox was usually far from being suitable to cultures of most kinds because of its cold climate, the proximity of the ocean warmed the surroundings and allowed basic farming to be done there. Feroxi people mostly relied on gathering, hunting and herding to survive, along with trade with other nations. Commerce wasn't held in high regards by the Feroxi, who valued physical strength and martial prowess above all else, but their growing population made such an activity essential for the sustenance of the people.  
  
Cherche brought her attention back to the harbor, or to be more accurate, to the ships occupying it. About three dozen of wooden vessels occupied it, moored alongside the docks. They were being discharged by a multitude of people, which made Cherche frown: none of the ships were being loaded, most likely a result of the newfound hegemony of Valm across the ocean. With the whole continent under Walhart's heel, most people knew it wouldn't take long for the conqueror to set sights to Ylisse.  
  
Cherche finally spotted several newly docked Rosannian vessels on one edge of the port, with people still disembarking the ships. She pointed to the docks in front, raising her voice for the wyvern to hear her words despite the wind. "There, it's them! Hurry, Minerva!"  
  
She didn't need to tell the creature twice. Minerva had an eyesight just as good, if not better, than its rider. Bringing its wings to its body, the wyvern darted toward an empty spot of the docks, descending at full speed from the skies. It landed with a loud thump, catching the attention of every person nearby. So much attention, in fact, that Cherche spotted a handful of guards running their way, weapons drawn. Clad in leather armor, she recognized them by their swords as Mercenaries. Leading them was a middle-aged man in iron armor, whose design helped the rider identify him as a Hero. A blemish scar trailed from his forehead to his right cheek, probably earned during a battle of times past.  
  
"Hold! Don't you dare take another step!" The Hero's voice was harsh and imperious, indicating he would make no concessions. Cherche looked at her surroundings, only to spot two Archers behind her, a hundred of feet away. Escaping seemed entirely out of the question.  
  
"Hold Minerva, stay calm," Cherche whispered in a low, soothing voice. While the beast didn't give any reply, she knew it wouldn't go on a rampage unless she ordered so. She turned her gaze back to the leader of the guards, raising her right arm to signify her lack of hostile intentions. "I'm no enemy. I hail from Rosanne and bring dire news from its lands. I need to report to my lord, and most likely yours, as soon as I can."  
  
The man pointed his sword at her and the wyvern, his men gathered behind him. "Not a chance! Keep your weapon where I can see it and step down from your beast! We'll keep control of it as long as I deem necessary while I interrogate you," he answered, still barking.  
  
Cherche complied, giving her friend one last pat as she jumped down. She tried to contain the frustration taking over her body, unwilling to waste but a single second. "Please, we're lacking the time. Valmese invaders will be here before long," she argued, urgency pointing in her voice.  
  
"Ha, Valmese? How do I know you aren't one of their spies yourself!"  
  
"Because the lovely woman is indeed my servant, and this magnificent creature here is her loyal friend. Surely they do net deserve to be treated in the same fashion as… er… common rabble." Both Cherche and the Hero turned to the man that spoke these words. Still slightly panting, she guessed he must have ran from one of the Rosannian vessels as soon as the commotion started. He was wearing knee-high leather boots and a sophisticated gray outfit that made him stand out from the rest of the people in the city. Just as noteworthy was his parted long hair, which was of a peculiar light blue color. Strapped to his back was a quiver of arrows that seemed to go in pair with the Iron Bow the man was holding in his left hand.  
  
It didn't take long for Cherche to recognize him, for he was a most familiar face to her. "Virion. We need to speak immediately," she said plainly. Time was of the essence, and she knew her lord had the irritating habit to waste it in endless discourses that never made much sense.  
  
Virion adopted a pained look, porting his hand to his forehead in a theatrical display of despair. "Ah! Milady, you wound your gallant Virion. Must we go to the point so soon, after fate just reunited us? You should know by now h…"  
  
"Alright, alright. Enough of this, you two are free to go. Lord Virion, the Khans will want to meet you as soon as you're able to," the Hero stated, sheathing his sword. His men followed his example, exchanging confused looks.  
  
Virion courteously bowed to the leader. "And meet them I shall. My deepest thanks to you, good sir."  
  
"Yes, yes. Just move along, and don't cause any trouble. Lord or not, you come with us the instant the wyvern causes trouble," the Hero said, visibly eager to leave the noble man. He turned back to his soldiers, clapping his hands loudly. "Back to your posts, men! What are you waiting for, move it!" The men hurriedly complied, followed by their captain.  
  
Cherche seized the opportunity to grab the attention of her lord, before he had the occasion to start one of his iconic ceaseless speeches. "Virion, about my mission…" she started, only to be interrupted.  
  
"Enough, we can speak of it later. Most importantly, are you well?"  
  
As always, perhaps surprisingly so for such a flirtatious character, Virion had a talent to notice and point out one's problems before they even spoke of it. Cherche quickly glanced to her left arm, before looking back to the noble with a frown. "My shoulder have seen better days," she answered with a pained expression.  
  
"What happened? Actually no, don't tell me now. Let us start by finding a cleric to tend to your wounds then, shall we? I do recall Leanne making ready to disembark just a few moments ago. Follow me," he exclaimed, swiveling to head to one of the nearby ships. Cherche nodded in answer, walking close to him. Minerva followed obediently, careful as to not hit any passerby, still earning a few worried or straight up distasteful glares on the way.  
  
They didn't walk for long, as Virion seemed to spot a familiar figure among some crates on the docks, busy overlooking the discharging of the wooden boxes from the ships, shouting orders to the people around. She was a middle-aged woman, seemingly nearing fifty years old. Her long blond whitening hair framed two tired blue eyes oozing kindness. The woman was wearing a white tight robe, ornamented with a blue insignia that Cherche knew only members of the Rosannian Cleric Order wore. She recognized the cleric as Leanne, under who she trained during her childhood before she met Minerva. Virion moved forward, attempting to catch her attention.  
  
"My dear Leanne! Surely someone of the fair sex such as you shouldn't indulge in such vulgar activities," he stated.  
  
The woman peered at the man, an inscrutable expression fixated on her face. "Spare me, Virion. Someone needed to step in, considering you ran away at the first occasion," Leanne finally said with disdain. She didn't let him answer, suddenly porting her attention to Cherche. "Well, who do we have here? It has been a long time since we saw each other, Cherche. And you too, Minerva," the cleric declared, her warm eyes sparking with enthusiasm.  
  
Cherche couldn't help but return the woman's smile as the wyvern let out a contented yelp. While they only met on occasions nowadays, the knight kept fond memories of her childhood under the woman tuition in the healing arts. "I'm glad to see you well, Miss Leanne," she answered, raising her valid arm to wave her hello.  
  
A worried expression crossed the eyes of the older woman, squinting as if to see better. "And me as well, dear. Or so I'd say, if not for your arm. What happened to you?" Leanne asked.  
  
Cherche pointed to her shoulder with her head. "I was hurt back in Rosanne, a spear found its way through my shoulder. I was lucky to have the time to bandage it, but I didn't have a Heal staff in handy," she replied, unconsciously flailing her left around to further demonstrate her point. She quickly stopped however as she felt pain from her injured shoulder, bringing her right hand to her shoulder to prevent it from moving again.  
  
"Well, it's not like you would have been able to use such a staff, not anymore anyway with you becoming a wyvern rider." Leanne pointed at one of the nearby crates. "Sit there and remove your spaulder while I fetch my supplies. You can start removing your bandages too, you won't need them anymore."  
  
Cherche complied, throwing a quick glance at Virion who remained strangely silent before sitting on the designated box. Leanne came back holding a Mend staff in her right hand as Cherche removed the last roll of her bandages, leaving the wound open for the cleric to examine. While not fully closed yet, the bleeding had at least stopped. Leanne crouched next to the knight, holding a hand above her shoulder as she scrutinized the wound. "You're lucky it's not infected, or you'd be dead by now. Or one-handed, maybe. Bad news is, the bone is shattered around the area you were pierced. I can close the wound, but you might need some time before being able to fully use your arm again, if ever," she revealed, remaining fully focused on the wound before porting her gaze to Cherche.  
  
A spine-chilling feeling sensation ran through her body. She didn't want to be set aside, the war couldn't be over for her just yet, not after her promise to fight on to Delion. "Will I be able to use my weapon again?" She inquired, anxiety pointing through her voice.  
  
Leanne raised her eyes to meet Cherche's worried gaze. "Maybe? We won't know until we try anyway," she said, lifting the staff to the knight's injured shoulder. "Don't you move now, the last thing you need is me failing to mend you."  
  
Cherche nodded in answer, turning her head away to avoid involuntary spams of her body as the cleric's staff glowed blue. An unpleasant tingling sensation coursed from her shoulder to her body, forcing Cherche to stay fully focused on controlling her body and remain still. Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to keep her gaze to the ocean.  
  
"It's done." Leanne stood up with a brief tired sigh, having indulged in magic for a couple of minutes without interruption, and brought her hands to her hip as she looked to the woman below. "You were lucky I was able to bring most of it back together. That said, don't push yourself too hard. Only time will make you fully recover," Leanne added. Cherche nodded, rolling her left arm around to test it. While the pain was gone, an unfamiliar numbness had taken over her shoulder, making it awkward to move. She sighed, frustrated: without a doubt, her combat ability would be hindered. Still, she felt thankful to the older woman, knowingfull well how skilled with a staff she was. Were it for any other healer, she might have not recovered the usage of her arm at all.  
  
Cherche stood up and nodded to the woman with appreciative eyes, bringing her left hand to her chest. "Thank you, Miss Leanne. Truly."  
  
"Save the thanks for later, when you actually get to use your arm," she replied, wiping the dirt of her robe she amassed while she examined Cherche's wound. "Is there anything else you needed?"  
  
Virion stepped forward, almost startling Cherche. She had forgotten the noble man at this point. "No. Thank you for your time Leanne, we will be going now. Cherche, please follow me," he declared, motioning Cherche to move along. She followed with a last wave to Leanne, surprised by her lord's demeanor. Usually             a shameless flirt, he seemed to have something so important on his mind that he forgot even his old philandering habits. Unphased, Minerva followed behind, happily wigging her tail whenever she had the room to do so.  
  
"Virion? What is it, why did you leave so soon?" Cherche asked, slightly struggling to keep up with his pace.  
  
The man visibly tensed up, finally stopping close to the docks exit once they were away from most people. "You were going to report to me, weren't you? What better time than now, with your arm being healed?" He inquired, rotating to face her. His whole demeanor unsettled her, it was the first time she saw the man act and speak in such a way. Perhaps it was only natural, she thought, with his country and most of his loyal followers gone. She quickly bowed her head and delivered her whole report, from the day Virion left to the moment she landed in Port Ferox, only leaving out her nightmare on the island. She spoke in a monotonous expressionless voice, trying her best not to let her own emotions get in the way of her speech. Yet, the man's shoulders slumped as she went on, lowering his head to look at the ground.  
  
"I see. Thank you for your report, Cherche. With Rosanne gone, you are now free from serving under me," he finally said, his voice ever so trembling.  
  
The man seemed broken, perhaps even more so ever felt. From his stance to his speech, his whole demeanor showed he had given up. A mixture of empathy and anger filled Cherche's body as she clenched her fists so hard her nails drew blood from her hands. She tried to keep her body from involuntary shaking, with mixed success, before she finally spoke. "Are you going to give up, Virion? Without even trying to fight back?"  
  
The man lifted his head in confusion, his eyebrows furrowing when he realized what the woman just implied. "It's done, Cherche. Rosanne is gone, our part in the war is done," he replied with a scowl.  
  
"Rosanne isn't gone, not as long as its people live on! Isn't it the whole reason you led your people across the ocean?" She exclaimed, irritation surging up inside her. Some nearby people stopped to watch the scene, but they were quickly deterred by one warning roar from Minerva.  
  
"How do you plan to even touch Walhart? Those people aren't warriors, that's why they came with me in the first place."  
  
"No, but you and I are. If I knew you'd wallow in despair, I would have stood my ground on the walls with the others until the end. It's time you looked for the future and stopped blaming yourself for the past."  
  
"We'd need more than the two of us to achieve anything."  
  
"You're supposed to meet with the Khans, aren't you? That's where we'll find people to join our fight. Besides, I'll have Minerva eat you if you give up just now," she continued, letting the man decide if she was serious or not.  
  
Virion, still holding his bow, rubbed his temple. He finally let out a lengthy sigh before looking back into Cherche's eyes, staring at her quizzically. "Very well. It must have been the gods will for you to meet Virion in such a distressed state. Sweet Cherche, your heroism fills me with inspiration and I vow to undertake this noble quest. We shall depart at once! I trust eating me won't be necessary, then?" He added, a confident smile playing on his lips.  
  
Cherche couldn't help but smile in answer, amused. She felt relief, not only from seeing her own lord now better, but also from not being alone anymore. While Minerva was a dear friend, she wasn't exactly the best suited to enlist people's aid. "That remains to be seen. We will use Minerva to fly to the Khans, as we cannot afford to waste any time," she said, turning to the wyvern to tighten its saddle. It wasn't the first time Cherche brought someone along during one of her rides, Minerva was more than strong enough to carry such a load.  
  
"Ho oh oh, is it perchance a romantic ride you are proposing me?" He proclaimed in a loud, enthusiastic voice. Cherche paused, despite being used by now to the man's japes. Love couldn't be further away from her mind.  
  
"…You'd better keep your hands where I can see them."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello readers, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I believe it is quite different, and longer, than the previous ones; and all in all I'm glad I was finally able to write more dialogue than in the previous entries. With this chapter, what I consider the prelude to the story is finally over, and I'm excited to write some Shepherds action for the next time we meet. That said, I started working last week and will probably keep writing chapters just as long as this one, so the next chapter will be either published either Sunday in one or two weeks depending of how much time I get.
> 
> See you later!


	5. A New Beginning

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Italic is used for flashbacks and dreams.
> 
> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.
> 
> -As I said in the prologue, I mostly follow the story of the game. My chapters themselves very often take place between those of the game. In this chapter, the events take place after our characters informed Chrom and the Khans of the impending Valmese invasion, and after they joined the Shepherds.
> 
> -While not directly a reference to Nowi and Cherche support, part of this chapter could be read as a prelude of it.

**Chapter 4: A New Beginning**  
__  
Cherche brought her hand to her eyes, shielding them from the sun's rays. It had been two days since she had been healed by Leanne and most of her feelings in her shoulder were restored, which didn't make it as awkward as before to move around. She let out a silent groan, holding a heavy basket of laundry against her body with her right arm. The Shepherds laundry, in fact. She and Virion had joined them the day before after they realized they shared the same goal: stopping Walhart. With the assistance of both Ylisse and Regna Ferox combined, Cherche was hopeful they'd be able to reclaim Rosanne. For now, the Shepherds had set up camp in the country for the day while the Khans gathered their army.  
  
She focused on the task at hand again, carrying the basket to the temporary wash house built for the occasion, eager to be done with it rather sooner than later. While she had volunteered for laundry duty and didn't mind doing such chores, being used to do it all the time back in Rosanne, she wished to further explore the camp and get to know its occupants.  
  
On her way to the wash house, Cherche heard the loud clamors of a handful of people nearby. Curious about it, she strayed from her path to check the origin of the sounds. It wasn't much of a detour anyway, the camp was relatively modest and occupied only by Chrom's most trusted soldiers.  
  
She walked past a couple of tents, arriving at a small clearing. Below her, about sixty feet away was the training yard set up for the day, which was a roughly rectangle area covered with dust where a handful of dummies and practice targets laid. A couple of people was using the facility, some of who were familiar faces to Cherche. Occupying the center was the blue-haired leader, Chrom, engaged in a duel with a bulky axe user. It didn't take long for Cherche to recognize him, Vaike was indeed the loudest person in the camp by a significant margin. In fact, he was one of the first soldiers she met, bragging about being stronger than her "dumb lizard." While feeling somewhat more amused rather than offended at the antics of the young man, she couldn't help but be a little worried at him actually trying to challenge Minerva to a fight. For the man own safety, that is. She had no doubts Minerva would best the impetuous man easily, she would rather avoid have her be the source of any commotion so soon after joining them.  
  
A bright smile appeared on her face as Chrom found a breach in the axeman's defenses, disarming him as the loud man unceremoniously fell to the ground. She could hear Vaike from her vantage vehemently complaining about his rival not fighting fairly. Next to them, a short-haired woman in red armor seemed to have the edge over a man with a similar outfit, but green. She didn't linger on the pair, as none of them was a familiar figure to her yet, having only seen them once or twice in the camp before.  
  
Further away, on the edge of the yard, was a lone swordsman with messy black hair, repeating the same slash over and over. Cherche eyed him curiously: while she didn't know every person in Chrom's small army yet, it was the first time she noticed this man. With how far he was currently standing from the other warriors, she was led to think he was quite the introverted individual. Wearing messy black hair, his slender while muscular was proof of regular physical training. His black almond-shaped eyes were typical of people from Chon'sin, which clashed with his outfit of Feroxi fashion. White wool and pieces of leather armor adorned his simple blue tunic, held in place by two red sashes below his chest. Despite this outfit, he used a simple wooden katana to train, further proving his Chon'sinese heritage. Swift and accurate, his blows demonstrated a significant proficiency with the weapon. Her gaze lingered on his furrowed brow, where beads of sweat had started accumulating. She must have been too insistent, however, as the man suddenly turned his head in his direction, throwing her a wary glance while dabbing the sweat from his face with his free hand. Cherche looked away, slightly blushing from embarrassment: it was not in her intentions to disturb him and she hoped she didn't give a bad first impression so soon after joining the group.  
  
"Who are you looking at?" a cheerful voice suddenly asked, tearing Cherche from her thoughts. She quickly turned around, almost tipping over her basket of laundry, only to be greeted by a small feminine figure smiling from ear to ear. With green hair, amethyst eyes and pointy ears, she seemed to be quite different from regular humans.  
  
"And who might you be, young girl?" Cherche answered, hiding her surprise behind a poised facade.  
  
"Nowi! I may look young, but I'm actually a manakete!" she replied, proudly pointing her thumb to her chest.  
  
Cherche's jaw almost dropped as she looked back at the girl, dumbfounded. The manaketes, humanoid creatures able to transform into fierce dragons, were barely more than a legend these days: the only known one was an individual heralded as the Voice of Naga back in Valm named Tiki. To meet one this casually was quite the exceptional occurrence. And yet, the young-looking girl seemed dead honest, brimming with confidence in front of her.  
  
"Hey! Did some cat get your tongue? You're not answering me," Nowi continued, pouting her lips while staring at the knight expectantly.  
  
Cherche shook her head in answer, a small apologetic smile forming on her face before she spoke. "I'm sorry, where are my manners? My name is Cherche. It's nice meeting you, Nowi."  
  
"Well, me too. But I was actually expecting an answer to my first question, silly!" Nowi exclaimed, sticking her tongue out.  
  
Far from being offended at the half-hearted insult, Cherche let out a sincere giggle before answering, entertained by the manakete funny act.  
  
"You mean who I was watching?" she recalled, then gesturing with her head in the direction of the lone man, her hands still holding the basket of laundry. "That black-haired swordsman. I didn't expect to see someone from Chon'sin here, but it seems this army is full of surprises," she added, looking back at the girl.  
  
Nowi turned her head to take a look at the man, exaggeratedly squinting her eyes as if she had trouble seeing despite the rather short distance. A frown formed on her face as she recognized him. "Hmm… I'm not sure," she started, clearly hesitating.  
  
Cherche looked at the manakete expectantly, waiting for her to proceed. "Nowi?" she finally asked as the girl remained quiet, confusion pointing in her own voice.  
  
The girl turned back to knight, placing her hands on her hips. Her eyebrows were furrowed as she shook her head, looking displeased.  
  
"Don't bother with the man. He won't let you near him. Besides, he even refused to play with me!" she exclaimed, as if that last bit was the most noteworthy one.  
  
Cherche threw her a surprised glance, disbelief filling her mind. She didn't even meet the swordsman yet, there was no way she could have offended him in some way already.  
  
"What do you mean, did I wrong him in some way?" she inquired.  
  
"Probably not! But Lon'qu doesn't let any women approach him, for some reason."  
  
Cherche's mind froze for a split second, adrenaline coursing through her veins. Unconsciously, she brought a shaking hand to her chest, dropping the basket of laundry to the ground. It fell with a soft thump; its contents spilled on the grass. Out of all places in the world, the man she sought was standing less than a hundred of feet from her.  
  
"Ouch! Are you alright, Cherche?"  
  
The manakete's voice brought her back to her senses. She quickly looked around, feeling somewhat relieved when she noticed nobody but Nowi heard the commotion. The ground around her was littered with laundry, forming several heaps of clothing near the fallen basket. Cherche felt embarrassment coursing through her body, her cheeks suddenly heating up as she awkwardly lowered her head. Remembering the girl standing in front of her, she crouched, starting to gather the clothes.  
  
"I'm sorry. I just… spaced out of a couple of seconds," Cherche muttered apologetically, picking up one of the piles she formed to put it back in the basket.  
  
Nowi walked to one of the heaps, grabbing as much clothing she could from it before placing it in the basket with a grin. "It's totally fine, don't worry! As long as you're okay."  
  
Cherche returned the manakete's grin as she handed her the laundry, before clearing her throat.  
  
"Ahem. You did say Lon'qu, right?" the knight asked, trying to keep a neutral expression.  
  
"Yeah, what about him?"  
  
"If we are to fight together, I'd like to know the name of my partner-in-arms," she replied, revealing only half the truth.  
  
Cherche remembered the diary of Ke'ri she left in her tent, pondering if it was a right time to hand it to him. She observed the man who returned to his practice with a renewed interest, locked in a duel with an imaginary foe. There was no doubt him not letting any woman getting close was linked to the events that led to his flight from Chon'sin, considering he didn't seem to have any problems with having a female friend at the time. That the man now suffered from issues related to this event was a definite possibility. If she was to reveal him the truth, she wanted it to know him better in order to truly help him, else the diary could go to waste. She resolved to wait, for now. A better occasion would surely come at one point.  
  
Nowi simply shrugged, going to another of the heaps of laundry. She helped Cherche pick the last pieces of clothing laying around without saying any more words, seemingly deep in thoughts.  
  
"Say, Cherche. I heard you had a dragon, is that true?" she finally asked as she handed Cherche the last piece of clothing, her eyes sparking with excitement as she uncomfortably fidgeted in front of the knight.  
  
Minerva had been placed near the stables in the open air, for lack of a pen large enough to lodge her. Cherche knew for a fact the wyvern wouldn't leave the camp without her saying so anyway, she made sure to train her friend to behave ever since they met. The first years had been tough but doing so was necessary if she wished to keep the beast with her.  
  
"Her name is Minerva, she is a wyvern and my friend, not my possession," Cherche clarified, a bit ticked off by people referring to her as a pet.  
  
The manakete didn't seem to pay the correction any mind, answering with a grin that revealed cute small fangs. "Do you think she and me can play together? Please!" she asked with a pleading voice.  
  
Cherche grinned, contaminated by the young-looking girl apparent enthusiasm. "Sure, she probably wouldn't mind that. Help me hang out the laundry and I'll introduce you. And don't you get too rough with my Minerva!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for stopping by, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. As I said earlier, I'll release the chapters on Saturdays instead of Sundays from now on. The more I'm writing this story, the more I realize there are countless elements I could improve. I focused on having this chapter more readable by spacing everything out more, which will hopefully improve the flow of the story. I might or might not change the earlier chapters in kind, time will tell.
> 
> Until next time!


	6. Fear And Comfort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Italic is used for flashbacks and dreams.
> 
> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.

**Chapter 5: Fear And Comfort**

  
_The same scenery, the same stifling heat forcing her to gasp for air. It was a familiar scenery: from the burning courtyard to the screams of agony of countless people, she was back in Castle Virion. She was lost amidst the flames, once again. She instinctively brought a hand to her shoulder, only to abruptly move it away, soaked with a warm sticky liquid._  
  
_"Your blood isn't enough. The price for your cowardice shall be your life," an ominous voice proclaimed, covering the laments of the dying. From the fire emerged Delion, a wicked grin on his face while holding a blood-soaked sword. Suddenly powerless to move, an invisible force holding her still, she could only watch in horror as the man approached her._

*

  
Cherche woke up in a sudden jolt, drenched with sweat and too shook to let out a single word. Her immediate surroundings were dark, she could only discern the faint orange glow of a fire behind a thin wall that let some of the light through. Still panting, a few moments were needed for her to come to her senses: she was laying in her tent, set up in the new temporary camp. It was the same kind of nightmare as those that plagued her nights ever since she fled the Valmese continent. While she showed a strong facade, unwilling to reveal weakness, she couldn't help but blame herself for what happened back in Rosanne. She knew she did her duty, but there was quite a gap between understanding and accepting it. Unwilling to wake up Minerva, she decided to go out alone for a walk, hoping the fresh air would change her mind.  
  
Cherche stood up, trying to be as silent as possible: she shared her tent with the group's two pegasii riders, who were fast asleep by now. On one bed was the red-headed Cordelia, one of the most chivalrous and gifted soldiers in the camp. She was so skilled, in fact, that many people had started to call her a genius. On the other bed laid Sumia, a clumsy yet fierce auburn-haired warrior. Cherche had heard rumors from her former master of their shared romantic interest in Chrom, but to the surprise of everyone the new Exalt ended up marrying a commoner from an Ylissean village two years ago, following the end of the Plegian war.  
  
She sneaked out of the tent, the soft ground cushioning the sound of her steps allowing her to easily remain unnoticed. Outside, the cold sea air caused her to shudder as she brought her arms around her torso, trying to keep herself warm. They had been on the move for three days now, leaving the camp they had originally built near the Khan's palace. Accompanied by the Feroxi army, their objective was to reach Port Ferox before Walhart's men could land. They were heading north, following the coastline until they reached the harbor. While it took slightly longer than walking the road to the city, it allowed the flying riders easier access to the sea during scouting missions. Their reports were most alarming: the Valmese vanguard had already set sail and would land in the city before long.  
  
Cherche wandered aimlessly, letting her steps take her wherever she felt. It wasn't so much as to think about anything, but rather to calm down and forget about the nightmares. She now despised the nights, wishing she could simply skip them altogether.  
  
A sudden movement tore her from her thoughts. A fleeting shadow was creeping on the edge of the camp, that she wouldn't have noticed were it not for the faint moonlight. It quickly sneaked off behind a tent, disappearing from Cherche's vision. She tensed up, worried. Were the Valmese forces so close they were already sending spies? Silently cursing herself for leaving both her weapon and armor in the tent, she hurried to the last spot she saw the man.  
  
As she reached the tent, she caught a glimpse of the shade exiting the camp, heading through a nearby thicket toward the coast. Cherche stalked it from a safe distance, being careful as to not lose its track again. While she couldn't identify the person because of the obscurity, it was easy to spot the weapon it wore to its side, seemingly a sword. With extra caution, she followed its path, ignoring the tree branches lashing at her skin as she tried to keep up with the blistering pace of her target. While doubting her own ability to restrain the shadow barehanded, she was hopeful she could at least get some information while remaining undetected.  
  
Her pursuit came at an abrupt end not one minute later as the silhouette stopped, standing on a cliff above the ocean. Surprised by the sudden halt, Cherche stumbled, her blood freezing as wooden branches noisily cracked under her feet.  
  
"Who's there? Show yourself!" a masculine voice exclaimed as the shadow spun to face the noise, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. The moonlight illuminated his face, allowing her to recognize Lon'qu.  
  
Relief washed over Cherche. It was quite unlikely to her that a Shepherd who took part in the Plegian War would betray Chrom. Nervousness soon replaced this feeling however as she remembered Keri's diary and what the girl's parents had told her.  
  
She moved out of the cover of the nearby trees. "I should be the one asking that. You were the one sneaking off the camp," she said, hiding the hesitation in her voice as she walked toward the man.  
  
"Hold, woman. I don't appreciate being spied on, especially by strangers," Lon'qu replied, crossing his arms while warily observing the knight.  
  
Cherche complied, unwilling to get on his bad side. She had been warned about the man's crippling fear of women and respected his need for distance, staying about twenty feet away from him.  
  
"Stranger? Hardly, I am Shepherd, just like you."  
  
Lon'qu lips curled up in a snarl as he answered, cynicism pointing in his voice. "And yet of you I know only the name, Cherche."  
  
She folded her arms, much like the man in front of her, starting to feel quite irritated by his attitude. "Whose fault is that? You've made no attempt to speak to me ever since I joined the group," she countered, making no attempt to dissimulate the anger in her voice.  
  
Lon'qu's expression changed, the snarl disappearing from his face as he spoke in a matter-of-fact manner. "The blame is mine alone. I have my own reasons to avoid you. Unrelated to you as a person, if that is of any to comfort you."  
  
Cherche immediately felt guilty, remembering the man's gynophobia. Despite her good intentions, she had been the one to invade his privacy. "My apologies," she said with an apologetic voice, slightly lowering her head in shame. "Nightmares kept me awake. When I went out for a walk, I saw you going out of the camp and mistook you for a spy."  
  
The man remained silent, eyeing her inquisitively. While previously so tense she thought he could snap at any moment, he seemed to have calmed down. Or rather, his intensity had shifted to what she perceived as curiosity. Cherche fidgeted uncomfortably, nervously rubbing her left arm absentmindedly as Lon'qu examined her. He finally broke the silence one minute later, turning around to face the ocean. "No harm done." He paused, before raising his voice again. "I… know full well how painful nightmares can be…"  
  
While Cherche wondered if his nightmares were related to his past in Chon'sin, she refrained from prying into his personal life, unsure of how to proceed with the man. She shifted her position to look at the ocean, riddled with calm grey waves. A pleasant breeze was flowing over her face, her hair gracefully floating behind her. The regular sound of the waves quietly crashing on the rocks below was the only interruption to the silence that fell between the pair. Soothed by the quiet scenery, Cherche felt her agitation slowly replaced with comfort.  
  
"Nights have started to make me anxious. I despise feeling this vulnerable, and yet there is nothing I can do about it, besides hoping it will get better eventually," Cherche finally confessed, dropping the strong facade she was usually wearing. It was a spur-of-the-moment declaration, one she didn't realize she spoke until the man shifted his head to observe her.  
  
"It doesn't get better. You'll have to learn to live with it," he admitted, a hint of empathy pointing in his voice.  
  
The words struck her like a bucket of ice cold water. While Lon'qu personally didn't reveal anything about his past, she could relate to the man. Both blamed themselves for past events, their situation was oddly similar. For this, she realized that she valued his words: that he didn't find a way to come to terms with his past after so long left her worried about her own future. She suddenly remembered the diary she had left in her tent, that she hesitated to bring up in the conversation until now.  
  
"Lon'qu! I…" Cherche hesitated, biting her lips as she immediately regretted speaking up. While she wanted to reveal the truth about his past, deep inside her she felt scared of bringing upon her the man's wrath and ending up not solving anything.  
  
Lon'qu raised an eyebrow, seemingly surprised at the woman sudden shift of demeanor. "What is it?"  
  
Against her better judgement, Cherche decided to drop the matter. "No, it's nothing. I should go to rest now, we will have to defend Port Ferox before long."  
  
Not waiting for an answer, she turned her back to the ocean and walked a single step toward the camp before stopping. Despite her failure to evoke the diary, she was still satisfied with having been able to discuss with the man. "I enjoyed spending time with you, Lon'qu. Let's speak again one day."  
  
Cherche heard a single "hmpf" behind her. A smile at formed on her lips, amused by the Lon'qu's non-committal answer. Without another word, she left the man, heading back to her tent. For the first time since she fled Rosanne, she looked forward to the days to come, a newfound sparkle of hope ignited inside her body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There you have it, the long awaited (?) first meeting of our two protagonists. You might notice differences with the canon support conversations of the game. I am aware of it, as I said this is my own take on their relationship: I've always been surprised at how Cherche just hand him the diary in the game while basically being a stranger to him, and wanted to write something different where she tried to gain his trust first.  
> Anyway, with that wrote, I will see you most likely next Saturday in two weeks as real life have kept me quite busy lately. Still, I'll do my best to release the chapter next week if I can afford to. See you later!


	7. Of War And Men

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Italic is used for flashbacks and dreams.
> 
> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.

**Chapter 6: Of War And Men**

This was it. The first battle of the many that would decide the fate of Ylisse. If they failed to defend Port Ferox from the Valmese vanguard, the soldiers of the Conqueror would have free access to the continent.

Anticipation coursed through Cherche's body as she nervously gripped the hammer she had been handed for the upcoming fight. The familiar sensation of numbness had returned in her shoulder. Frowning, she rolled it around, trying to get some of its feelings back. While it wouldn't prevent her from fighting, it seemed her past wound might still be a hindrance in the upcoming battle.

Next to her, Minerva fidgeted excitedly, eager to throw herself into the fray. Cherche was envious, sharing the beast enthusiasm would make any battle easier to her. And yet, despite the Shepherds noble intentions and the hatred she harbored towards the Valmese, she despised fighting. The only reason that kept her going was being able to fight to reclaim her country and secure a peaceful future for her people, freed from the Conqueror's shackles.

Around her, Chrom's group waited for their leader to return. The Exalt had left with Robin and Frederick, respectively his tactician and his most trusted knight, to negotiate with the invading forces. Cherche could feel the tension in the air: everyone was steeling themselves for the fight. Some, like Vaike, couldn't contain their excitement. Playing around with his weapon, people had moved away from him to avoid being accidentally hit by the brawny axeman. Others sported a more serious expression, preparing for the battle in silence.

The Shepherds had been assigned to the northernmost side of the town while the Feroxi and Ylissean armies combined were defending the rest of the city. While Chrom's band had to defend the smallest part out of the three groups, scouts had reported the admiral ship was heading straight to them, foreshadowing heavy fighting in the near future.

Chrom soon returned, accompanied with the two men he had brought along. Every single Shepherd turned their attention to him, staring at the Exalt with expectation. "These savages will never listen to reason. Everyone, prepare to engage!" he exclaimed, raising his falchion in the air.

A loud roar from the most exuberant soldiers answered him as Robin moved forward, taking the prince's place in front of the Shepherds. The white-haired man waited patiently for the soldiers to settle down and handed everyone their assignment for the battle. Cherche had been told his story as she joined the Shepherds: found by Chrom laying on a field with barely any memories, he quickly demonstrated immense talent for military tactics and strategy. Having now earned the full trust of the Prince, he had been nominated Tactician of the Ylissean army.

The man eventually approached her after assigning everyone else a position. "Cherche, you are both the first and the only wyvern rider among our ranks. To be perfectly honest, I don't exactly know what to expect from you two," he started, crossing his arms as he examined both the woman and Minerva. "That said, considering the size of your… friend, fighting among our shock soldiers could be the most fitting spot."

Cherche didn't give it much thought. Ever since she had come back from Wyvern Valley with Minerva, she had trained for and fought in the front lines. "Yes, this would most adequate. My dear Minerva hungers for a bite of the action," she replied with an approving nod.

The man seemed satisfied, a smile on his face echoing her answer. "It's settled then, you'll join our shock force on the right flank," he ordered, unfolding his arms. "Usually I have Sumia and Cordelia assist the whole army, considering their mobility… but now that you're with us, your group should do just fine."

Cherche answered with another understanding nod. "Yes, sir. I will do my best to keep them safe."

"Good, you two take care out there. Oh, and one last thing," he added, frowning slightly. "Don't call me 'sir', my name is Robin."

Comfortable with referring to the man either way, she climbed her wyvern's back before answering. "I'll be sure to keep that in mind, Robin."

About to respond, a loud roar interrupted the tactician before he could start. Minerva seemed eager to start the fight rather sooner than later. Initially covering his ears with both his hands, Robin soon regained his composure. "I suppose it's about time we get started, then. Let's do our best, Cherche!"

*

Minerva hurriedly scurried to their post, the ground resonating under her heavy steps. Less than a couple of minutes was enough to reach the shock force, with the Shepherds being so limited in numbers. So limited, in fact, that the so-called 'shock force' seemed to be composed of only three people, Cherche included. While she couldn't see the enemies, her vision obstructed by several block of houses, she knew the docks where they were landing was less than a thousand feet away. Cherche instantly recognized Lon'qu: his arms folded, he was leaning against the wall of a house with his usual detached expression. While he didn't make any signs of acknowledging her, the brawny man next to him, Vaike, was not nearly as silent. As soon as she arrived, he waved to her. "Hey, Cherche! Over here!"

Cherche gracefully jumped down from the wyvern's back as she reached the pair, briefly patting the side of Minerva before answering. "Hello, Vaike. Robin said I'll be fighting with you today."

The blonde-haired man let out a hearty laugh and grinned widely. "Har har! With ya and the wyvern around, there's no way we're losin' this!"

Cherche returned a smaller smile before giving a glance to her surroundings, only to see Minerva and the two men. "I appreciate the enthusiasm, but… only us four? Are other Shepherds supposed to join us?"

Vaike looked at Cherche with surprise, opening his mouth only to be interrupted by a hesitant voice behind her. "Um, four? I've been standing here all along, you know."

Cherche quickly turned around to be greeted by a young man in an oversized suit of armor that she definitely didn't notice before, be it here or in the camp. "Err… And just who might you be?"

"I'm Kellam. I've been fighting with Chrom for a few years now, but I can be easy to miss. Or so I was told."

The woman stared at him with disbelief, then turning to the two other men to check if she was being messed with. Lon'qu didn't seem concerned in the slightest, looking away from them. Vaike, on the other hand, looked to get a kick out of the situation, his lips curled into a wide smirk as he observed her.

Cherche shook her head, gathering her thoughts. There were more pressing matters to attend to, the Valmese invasion being one of them. "… Right. Anyway, how do we go about this battle?"

Before anyone else could speak, Vaike cleared his throat loudly and pointed to the black-haired swordsman. "Robin wants us fightin' in pairs, so me and my pupil over there will go together. Must teach him to be a warrior and all that man stuff. You can go with Kellam, I guess."

While she was slightly upset with the way Vaike spoke, his plan was as good as any, as simple as it was. Lon'qu, however, had visibly trouble keeping his anger in check. "Tsk. Are you done blabbering yet, fool? I'll not stand here suffering your japes while the enemy is nearing."

The swordsman didn't wait for an answer, but instead turned his back to the group and started to jog towards the docks. Vaike soon ran after him, shouting something about not getting his pants in a twist.

Cherche couldn't help but feel uneasy with how the whole situation played out. War wasn't a venture that should be taken lightly, and yet Vaike seemed to think of it as no more than a game. Lon'qu was no better: while he might have been the quietest person of the group, he looked just as hotheaded, heading into battle without waiting for anyone.

Deep in thoughts, she barely noticed Kellam approaching her. "I have a bad feeling about this, Cherche," he confessed, his brows furrowed.

"So do I. We should get going right now, before anything happens to them."

"Agreed. I'll catch up to you, so you can go on ahead. I won't be too long," he said, emphasizing the 'too' part.

"I don't think this is a good idea, we should stay together. Tell, do you require help to climb on Minerva in that heavy armor of yours?" she offered. Were the situation any lighter, perhaps the expression of sheer terror of the man would have amused her.

*

Kellam was clutching so hard on the saddle that his fingers had dug deep furrows in the hardened leather. His was a most position: his movement impaired by the heavy armor, he had to keep his lance in his right hand, forcing him to hold on Minerva with the left one only. Getting him up there had been a burdensome process, the wyvern having to practically lay down on the ground for the knight to be able to laboriously climb her. Perhaps letting the beast simply seize with its claws and carry him to the fight would have been easier, all things considered. With the short distance they had to cover, precious minutes would have been saved.

It didn't take long before Cherche spotted Vaike on the ground, frantically waving his massive axe as he dispatched two armored knights. Laughing maniacally, he rushed to the five remaining Valmese soldiers, despite being outnumbered.

"Look, over there!" Kellam pointed to another figure about three hundred feet further away, which she recognized as Lon'qu, surrounded by three cavaliers. His situation was precarious: far from possessing the mobility of the riders or the reach of their spears, he had to rely on his agility to dodge or deflect the incoming blows. How both the Shepherds managed to get separated so soon into the fight was a mystery.

Cherche shifted the wyvern's course, dashing towards Vaike. "Get ready, Kellam. I'll drop you close to him. "

Kellam tapped on her shoulder to grab her attention and shook his head. "No. I'll, errr… jump down, if that's alright?"

She examined the man, not exactly brimming with confidence. "Are you sure about this?"

"I… wish? But we lack time, just make sure not to fly too high, alright?", he asked with pleading eyes, struggling to control his involuntary shaking.

Cherche was about to argue but refrained from doing so. The knight had a point, the faster they would be the better for Lon'qu and Vaike's odds of survival. Besides, they almost reached the place where the axeman fought. "Understood. Keep that hothead in check once you're there."

"Y-Yes!"

Minerva descended until they were twenty feet above the ground while Kellam made ready to jump, shifting his leg's position to sit on the side of the saddle, holding on only with his left hand. However, the wyvern was an easy target for the Valmese archers, now that it was so close to the ground. One of them aimed for the beast, pulling then letting go of the string of his bow in an experienced manner. Minerva abruptly swung to the right, dodging the flying arrow at the last moment. Kellam wasn't so fortunate however: unable to keep his hold on the saddle with the sudden movement, he fell from the beast with a desperate scream. Cherche winced as he landed on one of the soldiers below, his soft body cushioning the impact of the armored knight's landing. Vaike immediately moved in to cover Kellam as he struggled to stand up, giving him space with wide motions of his axe.

Partially relieved, she yelled to cover the commotion of the battlefield. "Hurry, Minerva! To Lon'qu."

The wyvern needn't being told twice. It instantly flew up, making distance with any of the Valmese archers, before shifting its course to glide towards the swordsman. As they drew closer, Cherche noticed he was clutching his right arm, struggling to keep his weapon raised. Next to him was the corpse of one of the cavaliers, leaving the man with two remaining. They lowered their spears, ready to charge at Lon'qu to land the finishing blow.

Minerva let out a bone chilling roar as she charged, catching their attention and stopping them in their charge. It was already too late for them: the wyvern had seized one of the cavaliers with her jaws, shoving her claws in his horse to soften up the landing. Cherche jumped on the other horseman as the beast landed, dismounting him as she unceremoniously tackled him to the ground. Lon'qu reacted surprisingly quickly, running up to the fallen warrior to plant his katana in his heart. Blood spattered on Cherche's visage as she shut her eyes close to avoid letting the warm liquid in.

"Can you stand?" a voice asked with a hint of concern.

Cherche opened back her eyes to see Lon'qu a few feet away from her. She was a little winded from the dive, but it was nothing she couldn't handle, the horseman having suffered most of the impact. "Yes, I'm fine. Just need to… catch my breath, is all," she answered as she laboriously stood up, quickly brushing the dust of her clothes.

"What about the others?"

"Fighting the enemy, when I left them anyw-…" Cherche paused, suddenly noticing the blood flowing from Lon'qu's arm. He was still covering the injury with his hand, pressuring it to prevent too much blood from flowing out.

"Let me see your arm," she said, moving forward to grab it.

Lon'qu jumped back and threw a glare at the woman. "Not one more step! I am fine, so there is no need for your concern."

The knight stopped as ordered, remembering his phobia. However, she couldn't suppress the frustration that quickly rose through her body because of the man's demeanor. While the area was cleared from enemies for the time being, lingering too long on the battlefield was just asking for trouble. "You cannot even keep your sword up proper. Keep going like this and you'll end up losing your life! Not to mention you'd endanger both me and Minerva."

Lon'qu observed his injured arm before looking back at the woman with a deep breath. "Fine, I will walk back to the healers. Hopefully it shall suffice to appease your concerns."

"No can do. Catch!" Cherche threw him a roll of bandages she grabbed in one of Minerva's satchels, busy feeding herself with the horse she downed earlier. Lon'qu grabbed the object with a swift motion of his left hand, demonstrating surprising agility from his off-hand.

He opened his mouth, maybe about to protest, before being cut off by Cherche pointing to Minerva's back. "Save the thanks for later. Now climb on while we have the time, I will bring you back to base."  
  
"What? I refuse! You will not ha-", Lon'qu started vehemently, until clamors of incoming soldiers reached them from one of the nearby streets. A handful of knights and swordsmen were running their way, weapons raised. It wouldn't be long until they'd be engaged with the reinforcements.

"For the love of all the gods!" he cursed as he ran towards the wyvern, sheathing his sword and tucking the roll of bandages in his tunic. Cherche had already climbed on the saddle and extended her hand for the man to grab, which he did without any hesitation, to her surprise. It seemed the man was able to overcome his fears during life and death situations. He stopped any contact with the woman as soon as he was able to however, sitting the further away possible in the saddle while keeping hold of it with both his hands.

Minerva didn't wait any order from Cherche before taking off, dodging a couple of javelins thrown their way. The Valmese soldiers' screams and curses faded as she flew away, leaving the trio to themselves. Lon'qu, jaws clenched, didn't speak a word, his fingers' joints whitening from the pressure he exerted on the saddle. Cherche, unwilling to further burden the man, respected his silence and remained quiet. On the way, she let out a single relived sigh as they flew over Vaike and Kellam, busy fighting off a single remaining enemy. It seemed the pair was fine for the time being.

"Idiot."

"What?" Cherche asked while turning her head to face the man, raising an eyebrow in confusion. The insult had been thrown without any hesitation, with seemingly no apparent reason. His eyes were focused on the ground below, avoiding Cherche's gaze. She had to check again to notice his glare was fixated to the pair of men she had been watching.

"He thinks this war is a damned joke. That fool went out his separate way to prove he was stronger by slaying more enemies than me."

Cherche remained silent, unsure of how to proceed. Somehow, she wasn't surprised: such reckless behavior seemed typical of the axeman. Such a matter would need to be addressed later, for now the safety of the man was her priority. Lon'qu didn't press the issue further either, instead returning to his stoic silence for the duration of the flight.

As soon as Minerva landed in front of the tent acting as infirmary for the battle, Lon'qu swiftly jumped down while muttering some words of thanks. About to follow him, the man raised a hand, motioning for her to stop. "Hold! You've done enough, I will manage from thereon. Go save that fool instead before he gets himself and Kellam killed."

Cherche acquiesced with a nod. "Get yourself patched up, I will check on you after the battle." She didn't wait for his answer and pulled on Minerva's reins instead, who didn't waste any time flying away as quickly as she could. The man was right, there was still a battle to be won and the wyvern intended to not lose any more bites of the action.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is, almost 10 days left. Internet issues and time consuming real life issues, which I won't delve into, has been getting in the way and prevented me from writing as much as I wished. At least, it's there now, and longer than other chapters. You may have noticed this chapter was released on a Monday instead of the usual week-ends: with a lot of people now in vacations, I've decided there was no point delaying chapter releases since a fair share of you readers being able to read them during the week days anyway. Which means, for the next chapter: either it'll be out in the upcoming two weeks, or any day before. That said, I'll have a tight schedule during July, so I'll do my best to avoid being late (again).
> 
> Before then, take care everyone and see you on the next chapter. Also: KELLAM BOMB!


	8. A Cause Worth Fighting For

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Italic is used for flashbacks and dreams.  
> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.

**Chapter 7: A Cause Worth Fighting For**  
  
An unusual gloomy atmosphere was shrouding the Shepherds' camp as the sun was setting. While the Valmese invaders had been temporarily stopped, the toll of the Ylissean victory had been heavy for the defenders. Exhausted, the Shepherds were surprisingly quiet, haggardly wandering the camp's alleys while the injured were tended to in the infirmary. The Feroxi army was in shambles, and the Ylissean forces didn't fare much better. Port Ferox had been ravaged, with parts of city having been plundered or burnt down, when it wasn't both. Cherche took solace in knowing most of the city's inhabitants had been saved, evacuated from the town before the battle. Most importantly, they kept their lives: their home, while destroyed, could be rebuilt later.  
  
Cherche had left Minerva in the stables after making sure she was unharmed. She and the wyvern had fought the rest of the battle with Vaike and Kellam once they made sure Lon'qu was safe, effectively preventing any remaining Valmese grunts from invading the section of the city they were defending. The four of them had been fortunate enough to avoid any injuries more severe than benign scrapes and scratches. Meanwhile, Robin and Chrom, assisted by the stalwart knight Frederick and the two pegasus riders had engaged the docked Valmese admiral ship, felling the invasion force's commander. The Valmese morale quickly dropped as word of the demise of their commander reached them, eventually leading to the eventual retreat of the whole army. The Ylissean forces enjoyed the respite they earned, for now: while the Valmese fell back to the sea, the next wave of soldiers would eventually reach the coast once again.  
  
Cherche had planned to visit Lon'qu, stuck in the infirmary with other Shepherds, but that would have to wait. Bothered by the way her group handed the recent battle, she had decided to report what happened and share her worries to Chrom.  
  
Despite being at the other side of the encampment, the stables weren't far from the command tent with the Shepherd's camp being so modest in size. A couple of minutes were enough for her to walk through it to her destination, she was only stopped by the two guards on duty as she reached the tent.  
  
"Halt! What's your business here?" one of them asked crudely, blocking the entrance to the tent with his spear. Such caution was to be expected, with the enemy being so near. Chrom was the bind that united both the Ylissean and Feroxi armies together, losing him would be a great blow to their spirit. Worried about his safety, Robin had made sure the Exalt remained guarded at all times, despite the protestations of the young prince.  
  
"I wish to report an incident from the last battle. Would now be an appropriate time to do so?"  
  
"Afraid 'tis not, miss. The Exalt is having a meeting with the Feroxi leaders and his most trusted companions."  
  
Cherche was about to answer the man, stating she would come back a later, but was stopped in her tracks by Robin pushing aside both the tent's flaps and the spear blocking the entrance. "On the contrary, I would like to hear what she has to say. We were about done anyway."  
  
"Yes Sir!" Both guards saluted and moved aside, leaving the way inside open. Robin, motioning for the Rosannian knight to come, walked back in, soon followed by her.  
  
Inside were the leaders of the army gathered around a simple wooden table, on which was laying a map of the Ylissean and Valmese continents, lit up by a single candle on its corner. On one side was Chrom, a somber look on his face as he stared as the map, lost in thoughts. Behind him was standing Frederick, as placid as ever, his hands behind his back. The Feroxi representatives were here too, sitting on crude stools on the other side of the table. It was the two Khans that she met with Virion after they landed on Ylisse. Basilio, the West Khan, was truly a beast of a man: almost one foot taller than her, he had ruled on Regna Ferox for several years before being dethroned by the East Khan. Nevertheless, he remained close to the new ruler, acting as something akin to the role of an advisor. Indeed Flavia, the East Khan, was a close friend of the ruler of old, and some brave souls even went as far as speculating they had been tied by rather intimate bonds. It was only baseless rumors, of course, that both Khans took great care to shut down. While the nature of their relationship remained undiscernible, there was no denying they shared a genuinely cordial friendship.  
  
As everyone turned their attention to her as she entered the tent, she couldn't help but feel slightly intimidated. To her, her report would only be relevant to Robin and Chrom, the Khans likely had other matters of their own to deal with.  
  
"Do you want a seat? It's been quite the draining day," Robin asked as they reached the table, then gesturing to one of the free stools.  
  
"No Sir- I mean Robin. I would rather stay up, if that is alright. I believe it would be more convenient to deliver my report this way."  
  
"Suit yourself, I'm just going to use it myself then" the man replied as he sat on the free stool. He then tilted his head and observed the redheaded knight. "So, what it is you wanted to say?"  
  
Cherche was listened to closely as she delivered her repot, only stopping whenever she was asked a question. From the way Lon'qu and Vaike split up to how she brought the swordsman back to the infirmary, she didn't leave any details unsaid. To her relief, it seemed the leaders shared her concerns as they all stared intensely at her as she talked until she was done.  
  
Chrom was the first to speak as she stopped. "You have my thanks, Cherche. We will keep this information in mind for the upcoming battles. As for the time being, I will have a personal talk with the both of them."  
  
Robin still sported that intense stare he gave her during the report as he joined in the conversation. "Interesting. I've heard Lon'qu had less issues being with women on the battlefield, but to go as far as making him climb on your wyvern… You're a most persuasive person, Cherche."  
  
Basilio, the dark-skinned Khan, loudly joined in as he pursed his mouth in an entertained smirk. "Bwa ha ha! The man might have his issues, but he's not a bad apple. Tell you what, you should fight with him. You already tamed that huge wyvern, what's a mere man to you?'  
  
While the Khan's reaction and way of speaking was unexpected, Cherche had no issues being paired with any of the soldiers. Lon'qu in particular was a man she appreciated, despite being so distant to him. In a way, she could relate to the swordsman's personal struggles, both of them being subject to the burdens of their past. Besides, it could just be the perfect occasion to get closer to the man and bring up Ke'ri's diary, if she felt it was the right time to. "The taming part aside, I would see no objection to fighting with Lon'qu. I am but a mere soldier, order me and I shall obey."  
  
The Exalt shook his head, his arms folded, visibly unsatisfied with her answer. "You're wrong, the Shepherds aren't mere soldiers. I have the utmost trust in every single one of you and as such value your judgement in this matter."  
  
His fingers stroking his chin, Robin chimed in. "Hm, yes… I can see quite the potential in this. Lon'qu would cover for Minerva's lack on speed on the ground and in turn she'd add formidable firepower to his attacks. Not to mention Cherche could always ferry him from one place of the battlefield to another just like earlier." he remarked just as much for himself than for the others, lost in his thoughts.  
  
"As I said, I see no issues with working with Lon'qu, and so will Minerva. I am willing to be paired up with him, if he doesn't protest against this," Cherche declared, remembering about his gynophobia.  
  
Robin placed his hands on his knees as he looked to the woman, quitting his tactical considerations. "It should be fine, Lon'qu already fought alongside women before. Oh, while you are still here, is there anything else you wanted to report?"  
  
"Only that I plan to visit Lon'qu at the infirmary, which seems like the perfect opportunity to suggest this new assignment to him."  
  
Chrom glanced back between her and Robin before speaking. "Just one more thing: we plan to meet with the new Plegian king as soon as we are able. I know it's getting late, but I would still appreciate it if you could tell any Shepherds you come across to get ready to depart."  
  
While surprised they'd meet former enemies, Cherche didn't ask for any explanation. The leaders had their reasons and she had plans of her own for the night she wished to be done with rather sooner than later. She simply nodded in answer, acknowledging the order before answering, "I will, Sir."  
  
The Exalt returned a weary smile. "Thank you, Cherche. Take care of yourself, we will need strong warriors such as you to win this war."  
  
She saluted out of habit, the Exalt never having been one for formalities, then turning her heels and heading for the exit. She politely replied to one of the guards wishing her a good evening as she stepped outside, before walking hurriedly to the infirmary. The short travel was uneventful, with most Shepherds having already retired to their quarters as the night fell upon the camp. Only when she reached the infirmary did she meet a man, busy washing a bloodied rag in a bucket of water: with white robes, long blonde hair and silky pale skin, he could have easily been mistaken as a woman. Cherche recognized him as Libra, the highest-ranking cleric of the army. He was tasked with tending to the wounded, a duty he carried out diligently whenever he wasn't off fighting on the battlefield.  
  
The man stood up as she came closer, twisting the rag to dry it as much as he could while peering at her. "Greetings, milady. Is there any way I could be of help at this late hour?" he finally asked as she stopped in front of him.  
  
For some reason, perhaps because of her knight position, the cleric had taken upon him to call her 'milady' ever since they met. Far from minding however he saw fit to call her, Cherche had already decided to let him do as he pleased and went straight to the object of her visit.  
  
"Good evening, Libra. I was hoping I could see Lon'qu, if he's still in the infirmary."  
  
Libra raised an eyebrow, pausing for a moment before answering. "Er- I did offer him to rest here for the night, but surely you are aware of his issues with women?"  
  
"I am familiar with his gynophobia. I did already speak with him before and will make sure to stay far enough as to not make him uneasy," Cherche replied with an assured voice.  
  
The cleric threw the rag he was holding on a nearby table before stepping on the side, leaving the way to the infirmary open. "Very well then. He's the only one left here, so you don't have to worry about being a bother to anyone."  
  
"I see. Thank you, Libra."  She walked forward to enter the tent, only to stop after a couple of steps. "Oh, I almost forgot: I spoke with Chrom earlier and he told me we'll leave very soon. Could you relay that information to people you come across?"  
  
Libra graciously nodded, his hair covering his face as he lowered his head. "Naturally, milady. It would be my pleasure."  
  
Cherche returned a pleased smile. "You are too kind," she said before entering the tent.  
  
Much like the command tent, the infirmary's interior was dimly lit by a few candles but otherwise plunged into darkness. A few bunks laid on its sides, separated from each other by white sheets hung from the roof. On the center, two wooden tables had been set up to hold various medical supplies and tools, along with several healing staves.  
  
A wary masculine voice suddenly emerged from the shadows, stopping Cherche from exanimating the room further. "Who's there?"  
  
She turned her head to find the origin of the voice, in one of the corners of the room hidden by one of the sheets. She was almost sure the voice belonged to the black-haired swordsman, alone in the room as Libra told her. "Cherche. I couldn't find the time to see you earlier," she answered loudly enough for him to hear, moving forward a few steps further in the tent.  
  
"Hmph. I didn't expect you of all people to come visit me."  
  
Cherche didn't answer immediately, instead grabbing one of the chairs near the tables and making her way to the bed of the injured man. Lon'qu was laying on it, staring at the roof while casually resting his head on his bandaged arm. He shifted his position as she came closer, turning his head to scrutinize her with frowned brows. Cherche felt a small blush creeping up on her cheeks at how intensely he was staring but kept enough composure to understand his discomfort: she had come close enough to the man. She cleared her throat to regain her composure and placed the chair about ten feet away from Lon'qu, then sitting on it cross-legged.  
  
Cherche tilted her head on the side, trying to examine the extent of the injury from a distance. "It's healed already," the man abruptly declared, answering her unsaid question.  
  
"I see, that's a relief. I was worried you were faring poorly, considering you're the only one staying in the infirmary tonight."  
  
Lon'qu straightened to sit on the bed, moving his previously injured arm around effortlessly. "I was treated last is all. It was getting late so Libra offered me to stay for a while. I suppose I owe you and Minerva my thanks for not getting injured any further, actually."  
  
Cherche smiled sincerely, relieved the man didn't seem to hold a grudge against her for making him ride the wyvern. "Don't mention it, we are partner-in-arms after all. I'm just glad you were able to make it out alive."  
  
"Still, it is good knowing there are such stalwart soldiers among the Shepherds. Perhaps we will find ourselves fighting together again in the future," the man stated, shifting his legs on the bed to face her.  
  
Cherche bit her lower lip, lowering her head ever so slightly as she remembered her passage in the command tent. "About that… I told Chrom and Robin about what happened during the battle and your… argument with Vaike. They suggested that we pair-up together during the next battles."  
  
The man raised an eyebrow, surprise replacing his usual sober mask. "Are you so reluctant to fight alongside me?"  
  
She shook her head vehemently and looked back into his eyes. "No. Actually, I thought you'd be the one bothered by such a proposal. I have heard of your… issues with women."  
  
"I can overcome my inclinations in the heat of battle, if this is what you are worried about."  
  
Cherche lowered her head apologetically. "I see. Forgive me, I didn't mean to offend you. In fact, I look forward to working with you."  
  
Lon'qu laid back on the bed again, gazing at the roof above. "Do you now? Tell me, what is it you are fighting for?"  
  
She trailed a finger on the arm of her chair, contemplative . "The war has scattered my family and friends. I want to see this through, so that I can be reunited with them. Besides, someone has to stop Walhart, right? Many of my comrades fell soldiers, and I will not rest until they are avenged."  
  
"Fighting for the sake of others, then. This a noble goal, for which I'll be glad to lend my blade."  
  
"Considering your skill with it, I have no doubt it will be a valuable asset to us. But what about you? What is it you fight for?" Cherche asked, bringing her attention back to the man from her chair.  
  
"I fight because Basilio told me to. He ordered me to join Chrom, so I now stab people for the Exalt's sake," he stated in a matter-of-fact way, almost casually.  
  
"Is that it? Don't you have a goal of your own?" she asked, almost disappointed.  
  
"My only aim is to grow stronger," Lon'qu finally answered after a pause.  
  
Cherche could feel the man was hiding something, his hesitation to answer hidden behind his usual detached mask. She remembered how he couldn't protect Ke'ri back in Chon'sin, wondering if it had any links with his reasons to fights. While she wished to ask him about her, or even tell him about the diary, she couldn't bring herself to dredge such a painful past just yet. Instead, she looked away, hiding her own hesitations behind a composed silence.  
  
"Did your nightmares return?" Lon'qu asked out of the blue, still staring at the roof.  
  
She tilted her head in surprise. "Why do you ask?"  
  
"I'm concerned is all. From a partner-in-arms to another."  
  
"They come and go, but I'm stronger than them. Rest assured they won't bring me down."  
  
It was the truth. While the nightmares still semi-regularly plagued her nights, she did her best to forget about them and find something to keep her busy, or simply looking after Minerva when she felt distressed.  
  
"You are a strong woman." Lon'qu observed, before turning his eyes back to her. "You should go rest now. It was… kind of you to come."  
  
Cherche smiled broadly: getting compliments from Lon'qu was a rare treat that she knew held more significance than the idle flattery of her former lord. "I shall leave you to recover then."  
  
"Hmph. It was barely a scratch. I shall intensify my training so that such a failure doesn't occur again."  
  
She couldn't help but let out a small chuckle from the man involuntary antics as she stood up. "Don't be too hard on yourself. We depart for Plegia soon and I want you to be in your best form if we are to fight together," she declared as she turned her heels to walk toward the exit, leaving the man to his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again. It seems like I managed to not go past my deadline, this time. I had to restructure the whole chapter, which was originally two times longer and has now been split up in several expanded parts. I will see you again in two weeks, as usual (when I don't run late that is).
> 
> As for the story itself, you may have noticed I took some slight liberties and other personal interpretations up until now. Feel free to ask me about it if something is bothering and I shall explain my reasoning as to why I headed the story this way. For the canon timeline, this chapter ends just before the party leaves for an audience with the Plegian king on Carrion Isle.
> 
> Until next time!


	9. Budding Friendship

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.

**Chapter 8: Budding Friendship** __  
The trip to Carrion Isle was uneventful. The main army, led by the two Khans, had been left on the continent to fend off any possible invasion while the Exalt and his Shepherds were absent. A single ship, miraculously saved from Port Ferox's remnants of the harbor, was enough to carry the group the small Plegian island.  
  
Cherche had taken care of letting her wyvern out of the hold, where the mounts had been placed, several times a day. Together, sometimes joined by Sumia or Cordelia, their scouting expeditions were the occasion for Minerva to escape the cramped insides of the ship. As for Cherche, the frequent trips allowed her to stray her thoughts from the war: soothed by the steady pace of her companion, she felt far more in her element in the airs than on the boat so often rocked by the waves.  
  
Roughly two days after departing, they had reached the lone island. A single fort stood on it, in which Robin, Chrom and his bodyguard Frederick were currently meeting the Plegian representatives, alone. Meanwhile, the remaining Shepherds had set up camp in the nearby hills. The tall trees surrounding them shadowed the setting sun, plunging the encampment in darkness as the day made way for the night. Despite being one of the northernmost province of Plegia, the atmosphere was stifling, the uncharacteristic silence of the island aggravating the effects of the stagnating heat.  
  
Cherche let out a relieved sigh as she set aside the pants she had been mending and wiped the sweat accumulated on her forehead with her hand. "That's one more done. Ugh, this heat will be the death of me."  
  
"Cherche, are you still inside?" a feminine voice called out from outside the tent.  
  
"I am. What is it?" she answered, raising her head to watch the entrance.  
  
"I have another basket of clothes that needs mending. Should I leave it outside?" the voice asked, the person it belonged to still not entering the tent.  
  
"It's fine, you can come in."  
  
An auburn-haired woman clumsily pushed the tent's flaps aside, holding a basket filled with clothes with her right arm. Still panting from the effort, she managed to muster enough forces to genuinely smile at Cherche while fastening her hold on the basket.  
  
"Good evening, Sumia." Cherche said as she stood up and walked to the girl. "Hand me the basket so that I take care of it before you collapse on the spot," she added with a hint of concern in her voice.  
  
"Goodness! I don't fall _that_ often, do I?" the pegasus rider asked, instantly lowering her head in embarrassment as Cherche grabbed the damaged clothing.  
  
Cherche looked at the woman with bewildered eyes. She had quickly learnt the woman had a strong propensity to greet the ground with her face several times a day, among other gaffes. But to grow self-consciousness from it? That was a new one for Cherche. "Are you actually worrying about this? The skill you display on your pegasus more than make up for any blunders you'd do on the ground."  
  
Sumia raised her head to meet the wyvern rider's gaze with hopeful eyes. "Is that what people think of me?"  
  
Instinctively, Cherche wished to recomfort her, touched by the woman's distraught. "I wouldn't know, but that is what I believe anyway. You should focus on yourself, not concern yourself with what people think of you."  
  
Sumia took a deep breath and nodded, then returning a sincere smile as she backed away to fully observe the knight. "You always look so strong."  
  
Now Cherche was just confused. The sudden shift of attitude of that woman had been unexpected. "I'm sorry?" she started hesitantly.  
  
Sumia slowly shook her head, a faint blush creeping on her cheeks. "It's nothing, don't mind me," she replied before directing her attention to their surroundings. "You don't have to stay in the storehouse alone, you know?"  
  
The wyvern rider simply shrugged in answer and motioned with her head towards the sewing tools she had laid on the table. "It's convenient being close to the supplies I need. Besides, it will be all the faster to tidy up once I'm done with the mending."  
  
Sumia tilted her head on the side while gazing at the knight. "Don't you get bored sewing by yourself?"  
  
"I used to dislike it. Back when I was training, as a soldier that is, Virion grew a… special interest towards me. I became both his knight and his servant and was taught domestic activities. It's been years now, but I still vividly remember wishing to skip these useless chores to train with the other soldiers instead or just spend time with Minerva. It's funny isn't it? The older I grew, the more I've came to despise killing; and yet this is both what I have trained and what I'm paid for. Household duties, they now keep my mind and my hands busy, and that's more than enough to me," she confessed impassively, still staring at the sewing supplies as she reminisced about her past.  
  
The pegasus rider suddenly leaped forward, grabbing one of Cherche's hands with both of hers. "You don't have to keep fighting if it's too painful. I'm sure Chrom would understand if you wanted to leave us."  
  
Taken aback, Cherche didn't attempt to escape the hold. "That would be unfair. I trained that much, so I need to fight for those who can't. I will make sure there is retribution for Walhart's actions, regardless of the pain this war will bring me," she finished in a whisper, her eyes locked into Sumia's.  
  
The pegasus rider expression shifted to one of concern. "Cherche?"  
  
The knight moved her hand away and stepped back, then smiled warmly at the woman. "Ah, don't mind me. I'm fine, the heat getting to my head is all. I'm going to start mending the clothes now, else I will never be done before the night. I wouldn't to wake you and Cordelia both when I return to our tent."  
  
While Sumia seemed hesitant, she finally nodded after a small pause. "Just don't stay there alone too late, all right? You should take some time for yourself too."  
  
"I told you not to worry, didn't I? I will come back before long."  
  
Sumia visibly forced herself to smile back, awkwardly trying to maintain eye contact with the wyvern rider. "Promise?"  
  
"Promise. You should get going, I'm fine, really." Cherche felt a wave of uneasiness wash over her as she said these words, which didn't even ring true to her own ears. It was the first time a Shepherd got this close to her, admittedly because a lot of her time was spent with Minerva. While she appreciated the concern shown by the pegasus rider, Cherche couldn't resolve herself to reveal the toll the war was taking on her mind for fear that Sumia would needlessly concern herself with her struggles.  
  
Sumia didn't seem to take notice of Cherche's inner conflict, her face beaming with relief instead. With a last greeting, she quickly scampered to the entrance and waved in the knight's direction before exiting the tent, leaving the confused woman to herself.  
  
"Well. That was interesting," Cherche said before grabbing the shirt laying on the top of the basket and sitting on the stool, then carrying her attention to the sewing tools. With a sigh, she took the needle and deftly threaded it. She absentmindedly started the stitching process, trying her best to ignore the unnatural heat. The recent conversation soon filled her thoughts as she reminisced Sumia's words.  
  
'You always look so strong.' Lon'qu had said the same words, back in the infirmary. They were wrong. She was just as vulnerable as anyone else. The sole idea of idea of killing gave her feelings of queasiness. The aftermaths of the battles were so bad she often had to hold herself from throwing up, unwilling to show vulnerability to her partners-in-arms. It was all a front: if she was truly strong, then she could have saved Delion and the others back in Rosanne. She was powerless, unable to keep even her own demons in check as she was thrown around from one battle to another. Frustrated, her gentle needle pokes at the fabric turned into reckless stabs as tears formed on the corners of her eyes, a familiar feeling of numbness returning in her formerly injured shoulder. If only she was stronger, all of this might have been prevented. If only-  
  
" _We are under attack!_ " The sudden shout outside brutally brought Cherche back to reality with a jolt, a sharp pain emanating from her index finger. She looked down to her hand to see the needle stuck in her index finger. Wincing, she firmly removed it and brought the injured finger to her mouth in an attempt to ease the pain.  
  
" _It's the Risen! To arms, everyone!_ " Something wasn't right, sentries had been posted outside the camp. For Risen to reach the camp without raising the alarms meant an unnatural force was at work, which could very well have been at the origin of the attack in the first place. There wasn't a second to waste: Cherche dashed to the tent's exit, grabbing the axe she had left near the flaps.  
  
As she ran outside, the knight noticed the Risen hadn't reached this part of the camp yet. Hoping Minerva was safe, the stables being on the other side of the camp, Cherche brought two fingers to her mouth and whistled, calling for her trusty companion to join her.  
  
"There you are! I was looking for you," a masculine voice called from behind her. Cherche turned around and noticed Lon'qu running her way, in the stead of her wyvern she was expecting.  
  
"Lon'qu? What is happening out there?" Cherche asked, hopeful the man would provide her with answers.  
  
"The Risen have us surrounded. Get ready to fight."  
  
As if to echo these words, a Risen swordsman appeared from behind one of the nearby tents, raising his axe as he charged the pair with a guttural battle cry. Lon'qu stepped forward, covering Cherche as he nimbly unsheathed his sword. It proved to be rather unnecessary, however, as the Risen was slammed to the ground by a landing wyvern and swiftly ended between the creature's jaws. Despite Cherche's best attempts at blocking the scene from her sight, there was no avoiding the sickening sound of crushed bones as her beast friend dealt with the undead soldier, followed by a victorious scream.  
  
There was a small pause, interrupted by Lon'qu. "Come on. We need to stop them from entering the camp."  
  
Cherche nodded and dashed to the wyvern, who greeted her with a bloodcurdling scream. "Minerva! You're not hurt, are you, love?"  
  
The wyvern screeched and excitedly turned around, showing its entire body to its mistress. Cherche let out a relieved sigh, her friend showing no apparent sign of injury.  
  
"You had me worried. Thank goodness you are fine!" Cherche exclaimed as she deftly climbed Minerva's back, then leaning forward to pet the creature on the back of its head.  
  
"I will go on ahead. Dive in whenever I need cover," Lon'qu said, interrupting the joyful reunion.  
  
"Understood, we will remain close by," Cherche replied, tightening her hold on her axe.  
  
The man seemed satisfied and turned on his heels, before marching forward with a brisk pace. A couple of seconds after he left, Minerva took off from the ground, following the swordsman about fifty feet above him. From her vantage point, Cherche could see the fighting had spread to all edges of the camp. While the Risen weren't formidable fighters, their lack of agility and poor equipment hampering their fighting ability, the sheer numbers of undead soldiers and their incredible resilience still made them a force to be reckoned with. Devoid of any moral qualms or other human emotion, these enemies would fight to the last until they annihilated their targets or dropped dead forever.  
  
"They surrounded us without us noticing. Be careful Minerva, they seem more intelligent than the others. Either that or… they are led by someone," Cherche finished in a murmur, a tingling sensation overrunning her left shoulder. Something was obviously working behind the scene towards the Shepherds' destruction.  
  
If Lon'qu shared the same considerations, he didn't seem affected in the least by it, instead fastening his pace as he spotted two Risen fighters exiting the nearby forest to enter the camp. Before they could even react, he jumped on the closest one, piercing its dead heart with his sword. The monster recoiled from the impact and fell as Lon'qu removed his weapon from its body, its red eyes fading out as it hit the ground. The second one raised its axe above the swordsman as it realized the fate that had befallen its undead ally, letting out an inhuman roar as it moved its arm down. Not quickly enough, however, as its arm was swiftly met by Lon'qu's blade, splitting it in two above the elbow. It wasn't enough to strike down the Risen, who used the swordsman's momentum to grab and tackle him to the ground, where they remained locked in a struggle to gain the upper hand. Behind the Risen fighter, Cherche spotted another of the monster running towards the two fallen warriors, his raised hand holding a menacing Killing Edge.  
  
"Time to go, Minerva!" Cherche shouted, tightening her grip on the wyvern's spikes along its neck, the saddle having been left in the stables. The wyvern replied with a frightening scream and dived, tucking in its wings to gain as much speed as it could.  
  
The incoming Risen was stopped in its track as Minerva unceremoniously crashed into him, sending it flying a dozen of yards away. Trying to ignore the impact of the fall, Cherche jumped down from the wyvern's back and clenched her axe as she unsteadily ran towards the struggling fighters.  
  
"Lon'qu!" she called, lifting her axe in the air as she reached them. The swordsman managed to meet her gaze and instantly understood the woman's aim. Pushing the Risen the further away from him he could, he rolled to the side. The monster immediately tried to crawl back to him, attempting to bring him back in its lock, but it was promptly stopped as Cherche struck its exposed back. Raising a powerless arm in the air with a last lament, it collapsed to the ground, hopefully to never raise again.  
  
Cherche left her axe embedded in the Risen's back and walked over to Lon'qu, trusting her friend to cover them while she checked up on the swordsman.  
  
"Are you injured?" she inquired, falling on one knee to examine his body.  
  
Lon'qu looked away in embarrassment. "No. It was disarmed," he finally declared as he placed an elbow on the ground to push himself up.  
  
"Good. Let's get going then," Cherche replied while grabbing and pulling him up by the arm, his gynophobia be damned. This was a battlefield, the man would have to get over it this time. The man immediately tensed up at the contact and jumped back as soon as he was on his feet. His face turning bright red, he looked to the side while frantically rubbing his arm.  
  
"Lon'qu. Can you still fight?" she asked, growing concerned from the man's behavior.  
  
"I am uninjured," Lon'qu repeated, doing his best to meet and hold her gaze despite his apparent discomfort. "Ahem. Thank you, Cherche."  
  
She sincerely smiled, satisfied. Finally the man showed some gratitude, no matter how reluctantly it was. "Let's save the formalities for later, it isn't over yet," the wyvern rider answered as she made her way to the fallen Risen and firmly pulled on the axe to extirpate it from its back.  
  
About to answer, Lon'qu was interrupted by the loud battle cries of three new Risen emerging from the forest. With an understanding nod, Lon'qu dashed to his sword, leaning over to grab it from the ground. "Right. Let's deal with those monsters once and for all," he stated as he rose his sword, ready to face the Risen head-on.

 

*

  
Cherche lowered her weapon, panting just as much from the battle exertion than the unbearable heat of the island. She let the axe's blades fall to the ground and distractedly held it with her left hand as she examined her surroundings. The wyvern rider could feel painful blisters forming in her right hand, that she absentmindedly shook to relieve the pain. Minerva seemed to fare better, at least, unphased by the heat and cackling joyfully as she sent away the closest Risen body to her flying away with her paws. Further away, Lon'qu removed his sword from the last undead fighter's corpse. A sheen of sweat covered his exposed skin, occasionally dripping down his face and finely toned arms to the ground below. Sheathing his sword with a steady hand, he brought his arm to his forehead to wipe the salty liquid, only to move it away even more drenched than before with a frustrated frown.  
  
Around the trio laid a dozen of lifeless Risen bodies. They were lucky the undead had come in small waves, as they remained fighting alone during the whole battle: were the Risen to have come all at the same time, they would have easily been overran. Minerva and her rider had worked finely with Lon'qu, overpowering the nimblest fighters with their sheer power while the swordsman's speed was no match for the bulkiest warriors. More importantly, it seemed Lon'qu managed to suppress his gynophobia during battle, allowing them to fight unimpeded.  
  
Cherche's considerations were suddenly interrupted by a pegasus landing near her, from which jumped a familiar auburn-haired woman.  
  
"Cherche!" Sumia exclaimed with a ragged breath as she dashed towards the wyvern rider, only to trip on the shaft of her spear and fall on the ground in front of the wyvern rider.  
  
"Sumia? Are you all right?" Cherche asked, offering a helpful hand that the woman promptly grabbed.  
  
"Ah, yes! I mean- no! We need to pack our belongings and get out of here as soon as we can!" the pegasus rider stammered, not even bothering to wipe away the dirt on her armor and face.  
  
"Are more of the Risen on their way?" Lon'qu intervened, observing Sumia with crossed arms.  
  
"We do not know. Chrom is concerned this is Plegia's doing, but… just get ready to depart, okay? I still need to warn the others," she hurriedly said as she grabbed her fallen spear, then moving back to her pegasus.  
  
"Understood, leave it to us," Cherche replied. Satisfied, Sumia quickly flew off, leaving the trio once again alone. With a tired sigh, the wyvern rider lifted her axe and started to walk toward Minerva, followed by Lon'qu.  
  
  
"Cherche. A word, please?" he asked as he caught up to her, keeping a few feet between the two of them.  
  
"Yes? What is it?" she answered, surprised. Whatever he had to say, it must have been of importance to him: as far as she knew he never willingly spoke to a woman, let alone stroke a conversation with them.  
  
Lon'qu pointed to her left arm. "Were you injured?"  
  
"I was, a while ago. But it's healed now," Cherche replied, moving the fabric of her tunic away to show her shoulder, where only a burn scar from years ago remained, left by a younger Minerva while she was still training her. There remained no traces of the injury she suffered in Rosanne, the cleric's magic having artificially closed her wounds.  
  
The man shook his head, impassive. "I don't think so. You're still relying on your right arm too much, which leaves you unbalanced and vulnerable to enemy strikes."  
  
"I have this… tingling sensation whenever a battle start, which eventually leaves my shoulder numb. It's uncomfortable, but it won't prevent me from fighting," Cherche confessed before turning away, unwilling to pursue this conversation.  
  
"I will train you until you fix this. Whenever we get the time to, that is," Lon'qu simply said, still observing the woman.  
  
Cherche froze, processing the man's words. "That's appreciated but… what about your discomfort with women? I wouldn't want you to stay with me, if my presence is an issue."  
  
"I will have to get over it. What are partner-in-arms supposed to do if not looking out for each other? Besides, leaving you vulnerable in battle would leave me in just as much danger," he stated, hiding any emotion behind a stoic facade.  
  
"Hah! Not a disinterested offer, then!" she teased, glad the man was willing to trust her that much. "No, but in all seriousness, thank you. I'll gladly take you up on that offer, it is reassuring having such a reliable soldier by my side."  
  
"Hmph. It was… nice fighting with you. Let's get going though, we are wasting time," Lon'qu declared, then turning his heels and walking away.  
  
Cherche turned her head to Minerva, who eagerly trotted toward her. "Quite the eventful day, heh? Let's get you back to your quarters, girl. It seems we can't rest just yet," she said as she gently petted the wyvern's head, happily purring under her master's hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Turns out I lied and Sumia is in fact Cherche's romantic interest. Or is she? More seriously, the next chapter will be released in two weeks as usual, I'm starting to work full-time on the 1st of August so I won't really get time to release it before.
> 
> Until next time!


	10. Liberation?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.  
> -For the sake of consistency, direct (and by that I mean only direct) references to the classes and weapons of the game will from now on be capitalized, as I did with the items until now. I may change the previous chapters in kind later on, but it is not of much importance to me for now.  
> -I'd like to thank The Spilled Ink Society, a server on Discord I recently joined that has been incredibly helpful for the realization of this story, while also being friendly people all around.

**Chapter 9: Liberation?  
** "Cherche? Cherche, wake up!"  
  
The sudden shove tore Cherche out of her slumber. Dumbfounded, she opened her eyes to notice a concerned woman watching over her, a hand on her shoulder.  
  
"Sumia? Where are we?" Cherche asked, her mind still hazy after being so suddenly waken up.  
  
"Still in the cabin where we slept last night," she answered, moving back from the wyvern rider. "We're sailing to Valm, remember?"  
  
As if to confirm her words, a wave rocked the ship as Cherche stood up, forcing her to sit on her blanket and collect her thoughts. Shortly after the Shepherds had packed up the camp on Carrion Isle, a handful of Plegian soldiers met the group and assured them the Plegian ships would be delivered to Port Ferox by the next day, along with the funds promised by the Plegian king to assist the Ylissean war effort. When confronted with the Risen attack, they vehemently denied having anything to do with it, stating the island was dangerous and prone to such assaults. While Chrom and his army doubted it, the attack having been too organized for the Risen to act on their own, there was no point confronting the Plegian representatives further. Surprisingly, the Shepherds had received the assistance that they asked for from their former enemies. Their help, while unexpected, was both welcomed and suspect. The two nations had been at war less than two years ago, after all. Cherche, along with many other Shepherds, couldn't help but wonder about Plegian hidden motives.  
  
Nevertheless, following Chrom's order, the Feroxi and Ylissean combined armies had embarked from Port Ferox's remains. The plan of the Ylissean tactician, Robin, was daring but simple: rather than letting the Valmese soldiers land on the continent and ravage it, he had planned an invasion of Valm itself, stating their best chance of defeating the Conqueror would be to strike at the heart of his empire. It was the Ylissean army third day on the ship: if they kept their current pace, they would reach the Valmese continent before the night, effectively starting the first phase of their counterattack. Their target was a small coastal city, barely significant enough to hold the Plegian fleet. Hopefully its restricted size would make its seizing easier, giving the Ylissean army a foothold on the continent.  
  
"Cherche?" Sumia interrupted, now sitting on her own blanket.  
  
Cherche brought a hand to her eyes, rubbing them for a couple of seconds before looking back at the pegasus rider. "Right. Sorry, I was still confused."  
  
"Tell me about it. It looked like you were having a nightmare," Sumia observed.  
  
Cherche internally cringed. Her nightmares were a subject she would rather keep hidden, Lon'qu being the only person she'd ever spoken to of it. Always taking care of not waking her roommates whenever she was subject to the terrific dreams, it was the first time anyone confronted her with them.  
  
"It does happen to me sometimes. Nothing to worry about," she said, raising a dismissive hand.  
  
"What did you dream about?" the pegasus rider asked, a sparkle of interest shining in her eyes.  
  
"A castle on fire, people and me dying, a voice calling for me to rise. Quite the charming story," Cherche answered distractedly, not going into further details for fear of concerning her friend. It was the usual nightmare, besides the last part. She would usually wake up whenever she died in the other world, but this time she was sent to a pitch black, empty space instead. There, lost in the darkness, a masculine voice repeatedly called out to her from a distance, ordering her to 'rise'. Cherche shook her head, focusing her thoughts back on the present time. It was nonsense and nothing more.  
  
Sumia brought a hand to her chin and lowered her head, seemingly deep in thoughts. "Dreams have significance, you know? Some of the books I've read even say they can be premonitions of a future yet to come. In fact, I know fortune tellers that use them as a medium to tell the future," she finally explained, raising her head to observe the woman.  
  
"I mean no offense, but I don't give that much importance to them. They're just dreams, you know?" she answered in an attempt to cut the conversation short.  
  
"I see," Sumia replied, lowering her head, shoulders slumped. Seeing the sparkle of excitement gone from her eyes worried Cherche. Had she been too harsh? Standing up from the blanket, she walked to the cabin's door and opened it.  
  
"I'm going to look after Minerva before she gets grumpy. Let's speak about these books of your once I return, all right?" Cherche finally said before exiting the place, a wave of relief washing over her as Sumia looked up to her, now sporting a bright smile. With a small wave, Cherche closed the door and climbed the set of stairs that separated the cabins from the deck.  
  
A cool, gentle breeze greeted her as she took her first steps outside. The clear blue sky and the tranquil sea was a relief for the less seafaring Shepherds, who spent their days in their cabins whenever the ocean was any rougher. While Cherche couldn't see the land yet, she knew it wouldn't be long before the Ylissean army would reach her homeland. It was the third and hopefully final day they would be sailing. The landing would be no easy task: by now surely spotted by the Valmese scouts, the Shepherds could only prepare themselves to what would surely be a rough welcome. Dismissing these somber thoughts, she walked across the desk, heading for the vessel's hold. Still early in the day, there was no one outside to interrupt her. A few minutes later she was down in the ship's cargo, where she grabbed a huge slab of salted meat and a single apple from the supplies. Cherche then quickly crossed the hold to reach the stables, a generous name for the cramped spot where the mounts were parked. Among the horses and pegasii was Minerva, laying a bit further away in one of the corners of the room, asleep. While untied, Cherche had assured the Shepherds Minerva wouldn't dare hurting anyone, or the mounts, without her command.  
  
"Hey Minerva, catch!" she shouted as she hurled the piece of meat in the direction of the wyvern. It was quick to react: waking up at the first sound of its master's voice, it jumped forward, seizing the meat with her humongous jaws and downing it in one go despite it being a couple of pounds heavy.  
  
Cherche quickly joined the wyvern, hugging it as it licked its lips. "How are you, cutie? The meat was good, right?" she asked as she backed away.  
  
Minerva answered with an exuberant roar, nearly scaring the other mounts, despite them being used to the wyvern's proximity by now.  
  
"Good, good. That's a good girl," Cherche said with a giggle, petting her friend's head. "Let's get you cleaned, yeah?"  
  
The creature nodded, remaining oddly silent. While it wasn't peculiarly fond of being groomed, it had grown used to the woman's presence by now and was willing to accept whatever the woman was wishing to unleash upon her, be it the sponge or the scrub.  
  
Cherche headed to the cleaning tools she kept near Minerva's spot, grabbing from the pile a bucket of water before walking back to the wyvern's side, looking at the woman with the utmost interest. Without any word, she grabbed the scrub floating in the water and started to vigorously rub the creature, planning to go from the hind legs to the front.  
  
"Remember the first time I cleaned you, right after I found you in Wyvern's Valley? You were so angry you almost burnt my hair off!" Cherche exclaimed while laughing, plunging the scrub in the bucket of water.  
  
The wyvern answered with a roar, which was enough for its companion to understand.  
  
"Yes, I know. You were young back then. So was I, I think I was eight, maybe nine at the time. We've been together for so long now," she observed, focused on removing the dirt stuck between her friend's scales.  
  
The wyvern didn't answer, instead waiting patiently as the knight scrubbed its entire body.  
  
"Good girl!" Cherche praised as she set the bucket and the scrub aside. "We only have to brush your teeth now. Oh, and maybe trimming your claws would be a good idea too."  
  
Minerva lowered her head, visibly resigning to her awful fate.  
  
"Don't look so forlorn! I might have a treat for you if you behave," Cherche said while pointing at her pocket. The creature's eyes lighting up with excitement, she leaped forward to enthusiastically lick her mistress' face.  
  
"Stop, stop! At least wait until I brush your teeth, silly!" Cherche yelled, trying to hold back her laughter while pushing the beast's head away. "Let's start with your claws, all right?"  
  
Minerva laid down obediently, extending her front legs forwards to give Cherche an easier access to the claws. Trimming them with pliers was a formality, Cherche having repeated those gestures for years now. Once done, she didn't even have to order the wyvern to open its mouth, revealing a questionable breath as it turned to face her mistress. Holding her breath, Cherche grabbed a toothbrush, which was more akin to a tooth broom really. She then scrubbed all the food leftovers stuck in its jaws, then throwing the bucket of water contents at her mouth to wash the remains away. Upon receiving the water, Minerva jumped back and shook off the drops of water that had spilled on her body. Soon after, her eyes were fixated on her mistress, remaining strangely silent.  
  
"What is it? Do you need something?" the knight asked, raising a finger to her chin in wonder.  
  
Minerva let out a single bark, which sounded almost weird coming out from a wyvern.  
  
"All right, all right. Sorry, I'm just teasing you. Hopefully this apple will make up for it," Cherche said while grabbing the apple from her pockets, then lobbing it to her friend who dexterously caught it with her jaws before it fell to the ground.  
  
"What do you say we take a quick stroll while it's still early, just you and me?" Cherche inquired, looking at the wyvern with expectation.  
  
She couldn't help but grin at the pleased roar of Minerva. Flying outside was likely preferable to staying in this cramped area, even if only for a couple of hours. Cherche was just as happy: while a lot of her friends were gone during the Valmese invasion, she still had Minerva. As long as she was able to spend time with her, she was satisfied.

 

*

 

Cherche walked the stairs up to the deck, arranging her hair while emerging from the hold where she left her wyvern. It had been a peaceful stroll, the dry wind and clear skies being the ideal conditions for Minerva to fly. They had went far enough for Cherche to see a stretch of her homeland, which brought her a sense of nostalgia. She couldn't wait for the war to be over so that she could be reunited with her remaining friends and family in Rosanne.  
  
The hour was almost nearing noon, sailors and Shepherds alike were now on the deck while waiting for the meals to be ready. Among them, an auburn-haired woman waved in her direction as she noticed the woman leaving the hold, then running in her direction. A stronger wave than the usual must have hit the ship however, as the pegasus rider lost her balance and fell flat in front of the knight.  
  
"Sumia! Did you injure yourself?" Cherche asked, crouching to be on Sumia's level.  
  
The pegasus rider stood up precipitately and jumped back a few steps, muttering a few words of apologies while looking away in embarrassment.  
  
"It's fine, really. I'm just glad you're unharmed, there's no point apologizing," Cherche assured. "Why don't you tell me the reason you were so excited to see me instead?"  
  
"Oh, right! I just spoke with Cordelia. I was thinking maybe we could eat our meal together, if you do not mind," Sumia asked, hope glistening in her eyes.  
  
"Sure enough, it's about time I spend time with my roommates. We could talk about those books on dreams of yours while we're on the way to her," the knight offered. While she wasn't too interested by this subject, Sumia seemed to give a strong importance to them. Besides, she did promise her to talk about it once she returned.  
  
"Yes, of course! I've been thinking about it, and I remembered reading the flames represent both passion and a destructive force. So what really matters is what is burning, anyway," she started enthusiastically, often throwing glances to her friend as they walked across the deck. As Cherche thought, Sumia spoke mainly about symbolism with a monologue she politely listened to, only interrupting her when asked about details about her dream. While she disagreed with her, believing such dissection of her dreams was reading too far into it, she respected the woman's interest and enthusiasm on the matter. As long as she seemed happy speaking, the conversation's subject wasn't of importance to Cherche.  
  
They were interrupted as they reached the canteen's door by a red-haired woman, who walked across the hallway to meet them. "Hey Cordelia!" Sumia greeted, cutting short their conversation. "Cherche is willing to eat with us today."  
  
The redheaded nodded with a satisfied smile and turned to face Cherche. "Greetings, Cherche. It is an honor eating with a warrior of your caliber," she said in the most reverential way, forcing Cherche to hold back a surprised chuckle.  
  
"I fear you hold me in too high esteem. None can compare with the martial prowess you show with a spear," Cherche countered. Her words were sincere: Cordelia was praised by many as a genius, and she was indubitably one of the most skilled fighters in the army.  
  
The redheaded woman shrugged, then pointing to the winged ornaments Cherche carried on the sides of her face as guise of helmet. "You say this, but I'm positive you're the only one in the whole army to have tamed a wyvern, and that only by yourself."  
  
"Taming? No, Minerva is such a cutie. You just have to be nice with her is all," the knight replied.  
  
"Girls, let's eat. I'm starving!" Sumia interrupted, opening the door to the canteen.  
  
"Right, let's go. I could do with a bite too," Cordelia said, then following Sumia's lead accompanied by Cherche.  
  
They were handed a bowl of fish filled with vegetables, somewhat to Cherche's displeasure. Fish wasn't a food she was fond of. Nevertheless, she grabbed bowl without complaint and sat down with the two pegasus riders.  
  
"Oh, Cordelia. Do you remember that time we went in that hidden thicket near Ylisstol and built that cabin with twigs? We should totally go back there and check how it is holding up," Sumia started before even taking a bite from her plate.  
  
"This was years ago, Sumia. I doubt there's anything left standing of it by now," Cordelia answered, then carefully blowing on her spoon to cool the soup.  
  
"Even then, we won't know until we actually go there," she protested, both elbows on the table as she supported her chin with while looking at the redheaded warrior.  
  
While the pair was reminiscing, Cherche used the spare time to examine the canteen. It was a moderately-sized room pierced with a couple of windows of both side, near the end of the ship. Several rows of long tables were disposed on the floor, to which they were. The benches along the tables were attached in the same way, so that the furniture wouldn't fly across the room in rough sea conditions. Shepherds and sailors alike were eating, producing a constant cacophony that she forced herself to ignore. Her gaze stopped on a pair of men sitting in one of the corners of the room. On one side was Lon'qu, eating in silence while a ginger man in ragged clothes was staring with disgust at his bowl. She recognized him as Gaius, a thief recruited by Chrom during the Plegian war to undertake less than honorable missions. To see both men together was surprising, and yet Lon'qu didn't seem to mind the bandit's presence.  
  
"Are you looking at Lon'qu? You two seem to get along surprisingly fine!" Sumia suddenly exclaimed, interrupting the knight's examination.  
  
"I suppose so. Robin paired us together after the invasion of Port Ferox, we don't see each other much outside of battle," Cherche answered before eating some of her soup. Frowning at its bitter taste, she resolved to start with the vegetables and skip the rest of her soup altogether unless she was still hungry.  
  
"Even so, it is unusual for Lon'qu to allow us anywhere near him. Robin was considering stopping pairing him up with women altogether because of how tense he would get during battles. Until you joined, that is. It must have been quite a sight having him on the back of your wyvern," Cordelia added while taking regular bites from her food, seemingly unphased by its taste.  
  
"It does feel like I'm walking on pins and needles sometimes, but he seems to tolerate my presence. Now that I think about it, he even offered to train me," the knight said, remembering about her last conversation with the swordsman, following the battle of Carrion Isle.  
  
Sumia giggled, throwing a mischievous look at the woman. "Training? I've heard of more romantic dates."  
  
A soft blush crept on Cherche's cheeks at the implication, that she quickly hid behind a sincere chuckle. "Hah! Are we still talking about the same Lon'qu? I'd have more chance going out with a bear!"  
  
"A bear?" Cordelia asked, staring at her with confusion.  
  
"It's the first animal that came to my mind, don't take it literally. In all honesty though, I suppose training with Lon'qu is the closest thing to a date he would ever agree to," Cherche confessed, shrugging.  
  
"You know, war isn't a barrier to love. There are plenty of heroes of yore who found their significant others on the battlefield. Surely you must have heard of the tale of Prince Marth and Caeda the Pure-Hearted. Or, perhaps even of the tragic fate that befell Sigurd and Deirdre? Oh, and did you see the way Tharja looks at Robin?" she added in a whisper, leaning over the table as if the dark mage's obsession with the tactician was a secret to anyone.  
  
"Now, now, hold on for a second! I admit Lon'qu is quite handsome, but I have no romantic interest in a man I barely know," Cherche replied, holding her hands up in denial. It was partially true, at least. While she wasn't romantically invested in the man, nor particularly looking to find love, she did have a genuine interest in the man and longed to know him better. His whole character was a mystery that she wished unraveled. Pondering about the man, she realized how close they grew together: from barely tolerating her presence, she had now saved his life multiple times and event went as far as confessing what manner of nightmares plagued her nights ever since she fled Rosanne. The man even went as far as fighting back his gynophobia to train with her, something she assumed would be a tedious process for the man. But did it really had to be so? She suddenly remembered about Ke'ri's diary, left to the woman after she saved the girl's parents. It was the key to the man's struggles, and perhaps a way for him to come to terms with his past. Steeling herself, she resolved to share the diary's content to the man after the battle. She could only hope it would be the right time, that the man trusted her enough to let her help.  
  
"Is something on your mind? You seem concerned," Cordelia observed, setting aside her now empty bowl.  
  
Torn away from her thoughts, Cherche shook her head before answering, ignoring the worried look Sumia was giving her. "Did I space out? My apologies, it's just the upcoming battle that I can't seem to get out of my mind," she partly lied, then noticing the two women empty bowls. She looked down to her own to realize it was only half-empty, despite having stopped fuming for probably a few minutes now. "I still need to finish my meal, you can go on without me."  
  
"Are you sure about that? We don't mind waiting," Sumia said, echoed by a stern nod from Cordelia.  
  
"Yes, there is no need for concern. I just need a few moments for myself is all," the knight assured with a reassuring smile.  
  
Cordelia stood up, grabbing her bowl on the way. "Understood. Take all the time, we will need you in your best form this evening."  
  
"I will give everything I have, as always. You two stay safe for me, all right?"  
  
"Of course. We will try to anyway, so I expect you to do the same" Cordelia replied.  
  
Cherche winked, brimming with a newfound confidence. "I'm not going to fall so soon after the war just started. Besides, there is still something I need to see completed."  
  
Cordelia nodded understandingly and walked away. "See you later!" were the auburn-haired woman enthusiastic last words as she grabbed her own bowl, then quickly running after her friend, miraculously not falling on the way this time around.  
  
Cherche spent the remainder of her meal throwing occasional glances at Lon'qu, pondering about ways to approach the man and creating scenarios to introduce the diary to him while nibbling at her food. She was toying with one of the little carrots soaking in her soup with her spoon when a throat clearing interrupted her thinking, nearly making her jump from her seat.  
  
"Ahem."  
  
Cherche turned to identify the source of the sound and noticed Lon'qu standing a safe distance away from her. His friend, Gaius, was nowhere in sight.  
  
Hiding her surprise, she warmly smiled at the man. "Greetings, Lon'qu. Do you need something?"  
  
"Nothing of the sort," he curtly said while staring at the woman, seemingly having trouble repressing the shaking of his left fist, his jaws clenched.  
  
Were it for another person, Cherche would easily have mistaken those gestures as signs of aggression. She knew Lon'qu meant no harm however, his tensed body surely being the result of his nervousness.  
  
"Well, what did you came for then?" she asked sincerely, not letting the man's difficulties get the better of her nerves.  
  
"I wanted to check… if you fared well. Because we fight together soon," he precipitately added, his shaking spreading to his whole arm.  
  
"Are you only asking because of the fight?" Cherche asked, looking straight into the man's eyes.  
  
"Hmph." Avoiding the woman's gaze, he only replied with his signature answer, then remaining deadly silent as he stood awkwardly.  
  
"I am well indeed, thank you for asking. You know, we get free time between our chores and battles. We could use some of it to get to know each other better. As partner-of-arms, of course," she added, worrying she might scare the man if she was too forward.  
  
"I am… not ready… yet," he struggled to reply, lowering his head.  
  
"I see, there is no need to hurry then," Cherche said with an understanding nod. For him to approach her and inquire about her wellbeing was a gigantic step forward, which seemed to add to the stress he was surely feeling from their incoming training sessions. Touched by the man's efforts despite his burdensome inclinations, she would have revealed she owned his childhood's friend diary, were it not for the upcoming battle. However, nothing prevented her from trying to arrange a meet-up at a later time, when she'll be free to speak to her heart's content.  
  
Before the man could answer, she spoke again, seizing the opportunity. "Lon'qu. Actually, there is something I really need to tell you. Can we speak after the fight?"  
  
The man seemed contemplative, remaining silent for a few seconds before speaking. "I trust you wouldn't make such a request only to make idle conversation with me."  
  
"You would do well to assume so," Cherche confirmed.  
  
Lon'qu gravely nodded, finally managing to suppress the shaking in his hand. "Very well. Do your best to stay alive and you shall have your conversation."  
  
"Thank you, truly. I swear to make it worth your time," Cherche promised, placing a hand on her heart as if to prove her sincerity.  
  
"We shall see. For now, our next meeting will be on the battlefield. Give my regards to Minerva," he added before abruptly walking away, leaving the woman to her own. Satisfied, she grabbed the bowl she had laid aside, only to push it away after the first bite. Still as distasteful as earlier, the now cold bowl had triumphed over the remnants of her appetite. With a sigh, she stood up and exited the canteen, resigning herself to fight the next battle on an empty stomach.

 

*

 

The evening was nearing. The Ylissean army's target, the coastal town it aimed to seize, was now in full sight. Patiently waiting for the last Shepherds to gather, Chrom climbed the stairs to the helm, standing above his men on the deck. As the last soldier quickly joined the group, Chrom wordlessly unsheathed his Falchion, planting it in front of his feet before speaking.  
  
"This will be no easy battle. Expecting us since we set sails, the enemy surely prepared a warm welcome by now. Make no mistake, these savages are formidable fighters. We can expect at least the same degree of resistance as in Port Ferox, if not worst. That said, I have faith in every single one of you. Fight together, and we will see these scoundrels brought to justice by our own hands. Flavia and her men will engage the main army on the docks. Once done, we will storm the beach and cut down their reinforcements. Our scouts spotted several men already fighting the Valmese troops in the city. We shall try to rescue them, if possible. Any enemy of theirs is a friend of ours. For Ylisse!"  
  
Countless ovations from the deck echoed his war cry, soon spreading to the other ships. The cheers united into a massive roar as nearly the whole army, including Cherche and Minerva, joined in. Today marked the first day of the reconquest of her country, and she was ready to lay down her life if it meant securing a homeland for the Rosanian refugees stuck in Ylisse. An eerie silence followed the collective cheering, replaced by the cries of innumerable seagulls and other seabirds as they precipitately flew away from the Shepherds surroundings.  
  
Cherche shook her head to gather her thoughts before looking for Lon'qu. Like the other Shepherds, she was supposed to join up with her partner and get ready for the landing. Right as she was about to move however, bringing the wyvern along, a firm hand tapped on her shoulder and pushed her a few steps away.  
  
"Hold on Cherche, you are fighting with me today. You still have the Hammer we gave you in Port Ferox, I assume?" Robin asked as he emerged from the crowd.  
  
She raised an eyebrow in confusion, puzzled. "Yes, I strapped it to Minerva's saddle. May I ask for the reason of this sudden change?"  
  
The tactician grabbed a tome from his robe, then pointing at its cover. Cherche recognized it as an Elthunder tome, a heavy damaging spell that had the advantage of remaining quite accurate, especially against the less nimble soldiers. "A lot of heavily armored soldiers are blocking the path to the city, right after the beach. Were it another battlefield I'd go with our mages and deal with them, but the landing will put us at a heavy disadvantage. Since the sand is going to impend our army's movement, I intend to make use of Minerva's speed and your prowess with an axe to clear a way for the rest of the army in the city. Once done, I will head further into the city with our forces, at which point you should join Lon'qu and hold our left flank while Chrom is leading the assault. That is, of course, if Minerva agrees to let me on her back."  
  
Cherche gave a quick glance at Minerva, who didn't seem concerned in the least by what the tactician just said. Hesitantly, the knight looked back at the tactician. "We personally do not have problems with this. Was Lon'qu made aware of this change?"  
  
Robin nodded, a smile softening his once concerned expression. "I sent Frederick to him. He will be one of the Shepherds holding the left flank with you."  
  
Relief spread over Cherche's body. Both a fierce warrior and a calculated individual, he was likely to remain safe by the Great Knight's side. She could only repress a chuckle as she realized she had gotten more worried about his own safety than hers, the prospect of finally being able to reveal Ke'ri's secret filling her with resolve. It wasn't to say she wasn't in good hands herself: the tactician was a formidable fighter in his own right, able to hold enemies at bay both with his devastating magic and the swift blows of his sword. Turning her heels, she jumped on Minerva's back before answering, extending her arm toward the tactician. "Understood, I will leave the battleplan in your capable hands. Climb on and lead us to victory, Robin!"  
  
The white-haired man smiled, strangely serene at the prospect of climbing the creature's back. Walking to the wyvern, he then jumped and grabbed the woman's arm with an assured hand, before briefly pulling on it to join her on the saddle. Under his heavy looking robes, the man was still surprisingly agile. "You can count on me," he finally declared as he reached the saddle. "I will not allow another man to steal our future."  
  
Cherche nodded in approval, satisfied. Facing nearly insurmountable odds as they warred a whole continent, only such valor and resolve would bring them victory over the Conqueror. Turning her head to face the harbor they were approaching at full speed, she steeled herself for the upcoming battle. Were the Shepherds and their army to fail to secure a foothold this day and Ylisse as a whole would be doomed, its last line of defense being the ships and the men sailing them, all brought to Valm to oppose Walhart's hegemony. Unable to simply retreat were they to be defeated, a whole ocean separating from their homeland, the scenario was simple: in either victory or death trying, Ylisse wouldn't go down without a fight.

 

*

  
The heavy impact spreading through the ship as they ran aground on the beach nearly threw the wyvern rider out of her saddle, with Minerva being pushed a few steps back from the force. The Feroxi army had already landed and were locked in a laborious battle for the docks. It was time for the Shepherds to barge in and change the odds. About fifty yards away were the armored soldiers Robin warned her about: two Knights protected the stairs from the beach to the city. Further in the city, four mounted Great Knights were holding the streets, covered by a couple of Archers.  
  
About to pull on the reins and take off with the wyvern as it regained its balance, the tactician's hand reached for her shoulder. "Wait for our forces to engage them. We will sweep in when they the least expect it."  
  
Cherche nodded, turning her attention back to the beach. Kellam and Vaike were the first ones to land, the axeman clearing a way to the stairs for his slower companion. Tharja and Henry, two former Dark Mages of the Plegian army recruit by Chrom, disembarked next. From the west, five Dark Knights appeared as they charged the landing army. The sand proved to be a boon for the Shepherds however, their armored horses struggling to get a good footing on the ground, considerably slowing them.  
  
 "Keep waiting," Robin muttered behind her, as much to her than for himself.  
  
The two Ylissean Dark Mages unleashed a powerful barrage of dark magic at the incoming knights, forcing them to spread out to avoid the devastating spells. Taking a direct hit from Henry's Ruin spell, one of the knights collapsed on his horse, his lifeless body still writhing for a few seconds before his brain registered his death.  
  
"Wait for it."  
  
A powerful gust of wind bombarded the knights, cast by Ricken – the Shepherds youngest mage – as he disembarked, causing the sand to fly around them everywhere and slowing them down even further. Followed by Miriel, the other mage, and progressively the rest of the Shepherds, it seemed they had managed to secure a foothold on the beach. Vaike and Kellam had advanced even further, Vaike securing the sides of the steps leading to the streets while the Knight climbed them as fast as he was able to, lifting his shield as he prepared to clash with the Valmese defenders.  
  
"Wait."  
  
Kellam charged forward, ramming the two Valmese Knights with his shield. Vaike was following a couple of steps behind, raising his massive battle-axe in anticipation.  
  
"Now is the time! Full speed!"  
  
Minerva took off from the ship as soon as the order was given, sending it back a dozen of yards back to the water with the impact of the takeoff. Flying at full speed toward the Great Knights defending the streets, covering the distance separating them from their target was a matter of seconds. Before the two Archers could react, Robin sent two bolts of lightning from the wyvern's back, felling them on the spot. Cherche tightened the grip on her Hammer as Minerva swooped on the cavaliers in a well-rehearsed fighting tactic, relying on powerful and quick surgical strikes upon the enemy. As they reached the closest knight, the wyvern rider wildly swung her weapon, battering his torso with one powerful blow and crushing armor and bones alike. His limp body unceremoniously fell to the ground with a loud clang from his armor as his horse ran off, fleeing the gigantic beast that had arrived. Two of his brethren weren't so fortunate however: as Cherche fell the first enemy, the wyvern engulfed two of the others in a scorching stream of flames, their sturdy steel armor turning into deadly traps as it melted both riders and mounts. Trying her best to ignore their desperate screams of agony, Cherche pulled on the reins to order Minerva to fly back to the airs. Their takeoff was almost interrupted by the remaining Great Knight, about to hurl a Javelin at the flying mount with a menacing battle cry, only to be cut short in his tracks and thrown to the ground by a direct hit from Robin's Elthunder. Laboriously trying to stand up, his armor charred where the lightning struck, the Great Knight was finished off by a swift blow from Vaike's axe, propelling him back to the ground. Kellam followed closely behind, leaving the two Knights bodies behind. Once guarding the stairs, the blood leaking from the large gashes in their armors was now staining the steps to the city. The remaining Shepherds steadily climbed them, avoiding the slippery pools of blood forming on the steps. It seemed the Dark Knight's threat on the beach had been dealt with. Above them, two pegasii flew at full speed, one of them carrying both its rider and the Exalt.  
  
Robin jumped from the wyvern's back and raised his voice. "Kellam, Vaike, with me! I told the mages to follow us," he ordered before turning to Cherche. "Lon'qu and Frederick should join you any time now. Can I trust you to hold our back while we're gone?"  
  
"Leave it to us! We will make sure no enemy is allowed to go past us," Cherche answered, joined by an approving cry from Minerva.  
  
"You'd best be careful. The Valmese could be hiding anywhere, laying in ambush."  
  
"Duly noted. We shall remain vigilant," Cherche assured, readjusting her grip on the Hammer.  
  
Seemingly satisfied, the man nodded and motioned for the two men of his squad to follow him, before running up the main street. The four mages followed closely behind, paying no heed to Cherche and her steed. With a row of houses blocking her right side, she only had to guard a small street to her left, devoid of any life whatsoever. While she couldn't see them from this position, she knew the Feroxi army was fighting further down this way. It was the main reason she had been posted there: if the Valmese were to bring reinforcements from that side, they'd easily surround and strike the Shepherds from the back. Cherche's role was prevent that from happening by guarding the streets.  
  
The loud sound of horses galloping down one of the nearby alleys behind her, leading to the Shepherd's ship, brought her back to reality. Three horsemen appeared from the corner of a house: Frederick was leading them, his horse carrying both him and Lon'qu. Behind them were Sully and Stahl, along with an excited little girl on the green horseman's saddle.  
  
"Hiya Cherche!" she exclaimed while waving at the wyvern rider from the back of her saddle, as energetic as ever.  
  
"Hello Nowi," Cherche replied with a sober acknowledging bow before carrying her attention to the others. Focused on the battle, she wasn't quite ready to reply in kind to the manakete's enthusiasm.  
  
Lon'qu dismounted Frederick's horse and took a few steps towards her. "The horses couldn't climb the stairs because of the bodies in the way," he briefly explained before returning to his usual mutism.  
  
"It's fine, I was with Robin up until a minute ago. Besides, I doubt there will be any soul coming down this street before the end of the battle."  
  
Frederick closed in, the armor of his horse jangling at any of his steps. "Did Robin press onward already? What of the Exalt?"  
  
"They might be together by nom. I saw Chrom riding Sumia's pegasus, they were headed toward the center of the city."  
  
"I see," he replied before falling in a deep silence, one hand on his chin for a couple of seconds. He then raised his head to meet the five remaining Shepherd's gazes, waiting for his orders. While not technically their direct superior, Frederick was Chrom's deputy and as such had the respect of everyone in the army.  
  
"Lon'qu, please remain here with Cherche. We need to go further and secure the other streets leading to our backline," he finally ordered, met with silent nods of approval from Lon'qu and the two Cavaliers, who went ahead and started to head down the main street. "Come and find us if you find yourself overwhelmed by enemies. You won't be able to stop anyone if you are dead."  
  
"Understood, Sir," she replied with a brief salute. Further ahead, Lon'qu walked to the entrance of their assigned street without a word and leaned against the wall, arms crossed and sword sheathed.  
  
Ever sober, Frederick replied with a courteous nod before turning and galloping down the main street, catching up with the two horsemen. Pulling on the wyvern's reins, Cherche rotated and headed toward the lone swordsman, being careful as to not penetrate his comfort zone.  
  
"What are you doing?" she asked, confused by the Lon'qu's stance.  
  
"Is it not obvious? I'm guarding the street," he somberly said, looking away from the woman.  
  
"This is no way to do guard duty. You're not even facing the right way," Cherche protested, ignoring the man's apparent hostility.  
  
"Hmph." Out of spite, he offered his typical answer, only slightly turning his face to look down the nearby street.  
  
"Lon'qu, there's something wrong isn't it? Is it something I did?"  
  
The man reluctantly turned his head to face her, then muttered a word of apology. "Nothing of the sort, I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression. I just hate being forced to sit there idly while everyone else is fighting."  
  
The words of the swordsman put Cherche at ease: genuinely worried she might have offended him in some way, seeing him speak otherwise was a relief. To be quite frank, she couldn't say she didn't share the man's sentiment. Remaining there while their companions were fighting and possibly losing their lives was a heavy burden on her mind, that she only managed to alleviate by considering the possible effects of an attack from Valmese reinforcements were the pair not to stop it. As much as she disliked it, the plan of the Ylissean tactician was, as always, sound.  
  
"I realize how pointless it seems, but someone needs to do it. The only thing we can do, for now, is pray to their success," Cherche replied in an attempt to comfort him  
  
"Just because I understand it doesn't mean I have to like it," he retorted with a shrug, then looking back down the street.  
  
Cherche nodded understandingly, respecting the man's sentiment that she shared. Pulling on Minerva's reins, she moved back a few steps to face the street. They kept watching in silence, the only sound reaching their remote location being the sound of waves crashing against the sand. If they didn't know of it, they wouldn't even know a battle was currently taking place in the city. Without seeing a single soul, the seconds became minutes as they remained immobile, staring down the alley. If Lon'qu was frustrated, he was hiding it well, the only gesture betraying his nonchalant stance being irregular eye twitches that she could have sworn became more common by the second.  
  
A white large winged silhouette suddenly flew above them, breaking the cumbersome silence that befell the place. Both Lon'qu and Cherche raised their head to identify the possible threat, only to realize the pegasus was already past them. She had only been able to notice a flash of crimson red hair directing the creature while another figure was holding on to dear life.  
  
"Wasn't Cordelia alone when the attack started?" Cherche asked as the pegasus landed near the ship, quickly surrounded by the clerics posted there until the battle ended.  
  
"Chrom mentioned locals fighting the Valmese. Might be one of the survivors," he replied nonchalantly, bringing his attention back to the street they were protecting. Obviously the man wasn't very interested in the newcomer's identity, instead focusing back to their mission right away. He was right of course: the Shepherds's security was of the utmost importance, there would always be time later on to meet the survivor, assuming he lived until then. Still, there had been not a soul going up the street for quite some time now. If Valmese soldiers attempted to charge through their alleys, she'd be close enough to react before they'd even reach Lon'qu.  
  
"I'm going to check what is happening from the air, it won't take longer than a minute," Cherche declared, drawing on her reins to get enough space between Minerva and the houses to take off.  
  
"Understood, I will keep watch for you," he answered, his eyes still locked down the path.  
  
A quick yank on Minerva's reins and she was already in the air, flying toward the beach. Below, Cordelia was engaged in an agitated conversation with Libra while a jet black-haired woman was discharged from the pegasus by the other clerics. Cherche squinted her eyes, then letting out a small cry of surprise. "That woman! She's wearing the same kind of clothing as Lon'qu!" she exclaimed, then met with an inquisitive shriek from her friend.  
  
"Is it bad you ask? I can't say for sure, but we should probably tell Lon'qu now," Cherche declared, giving the reins a gentle tug to redirect the wyvern. Barely able to contain her excitation, they started to fly back toward the swordsman, staring down the empty street in the same position as when she left him. Everything was just as still as before, except from that lone window slowly opening above Lon'qu. Her thoughts stopped as she processed the information: why was this window just now opening up?  
  
Her stomach contracted into a tight ball as the feeling of terror suddenly stabbed her in the get as she realized a robed figure was standing behind the opened window, raising a menacing hand at the unaware swordsman's back while holding a heavy looking mauve tome.  
  
"Hurry Minerva! Save him!" she yelled as she leaned over the wyvern, hoping to preserve its speed from the friction of the air.  
  
Alarmed by the sudden yell, the swordsman turned around, but it was too late. A massive ball of purple lightning infused with dark energy was racing down his way, about to hit him at full speed.  
  
"What in-"  
  
 Cherche could only grit her teeth as they flew in front of him, the wyvern's tail unceremoniously shoving the man out of the way. The deathly looking ball promptly swallowed the woman and her dear friend instead, seemingly with no effects.  
  
'Oh. It's not so b-' were her last thoughts before she let out a deafening scream of agony, the corrupted filaments pressing against and digging in her whole body. Never once had she experienced such pain: flows of blood sputtered from her innumerable wounds as the filaments penetrated always deeper, reaching her very core. Choked by the magic, her whole world limited to the ball contracting around them. She wasn't even able to muster the force to scream as the dark tendrils suddenly exploded, turning her body into an empty husk of anguish. Hearing only the screeches of agony of her beloved friend as she fell from her back, the last thing she felt was the contact of her body with the ground as everything went black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was quite a ride. You may notice this chapter was almost three times as long as the previous ones. There was a lot to write about, to say the least. While the chapter ended with quite a grim note, I still have a surprise I hope you will enjoy for the next chapter.
> 
> Fair warning: I work full-time now, meaning I have few free time for myself. While I write every day, the next chapter may be released in three weeks and not two as usual. Only future will tell, until then take care!


	11. No Rest For The Weary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.

**Chapter 10: No Rest For The Weary**  
The feeling of the fresh, gentle breeze flowing on his skin as he walked through the camp was welcomed, cooling his body after the recent battle. The Shepherds had set up camp next to the port right as the night set, the remaining Valmese soldiers having been evicted from the town. A sour taste stuck to his tongue: while the Ylissean army had emerged victorious, they had managed to save but one of the Valmese rebels, a woman from Chon'sin he still didn't have the occasion to see. The offensive had taken a great toll on the Ylissean combined forces, many of the Khan's and Exalt's soldiers having died that day. As for the Shepherds, two of their member's lives were laying in the hands of both the clerics and the Gods.  
  
The infirmary in sight, he adjusted his clothing, missing the familiar weight of his armor and the katana always at his side. A feminine figure was standing in front of the tent, washing various healing instruments in a bucket whose water was stained with a crimson liquid. He approached the silhouette, that he recognized as Libra as he came closer, then clearing his throat to catch his attention. Startled, the cleric dropped his tools and jumped a few steps back before looking up to the man, his mouth agape.  
  
"Lon'qu! Please refrain from startling me this way, lest I suffer from a stroke," he exclaimed, then crouching to grab the fallen tools.  
  
"I'm sorry. I should expect people to still be on edge after everything that happened," the swordsman replied. Standing above the cleric, he observed him for a few seconds before crouching and assisting in the tools recovery in silence. Both the monk's robes and arms were tainted with blood that Lon'qu could only guess didn't belong to him.  
  
Working together, recovering the tools was done shortly. Lon'qu handed the few scalpels he had recovered, that the monk grabbed and threw in the nearby bucket along with the rest of his tools, then wiping his bloodied hands on the herb. He then stood up, followed by the swordsman.  
  
"Did you come to visit Cherche?" he asked, examining Lon'qu carefully.  
  
The myrmidon nodded, satisfied. How the cleric reached that conclusion was of no concern to him, as long as he got what he came for. "Going straight to the point I see. I wish to visit her indeed, if you allow me."  
  
"She's still recovering from our operations," Libra replied. "As long as you don't wake her up, I suppose there is no harm in letting you come. However, you might want to wait to do so: Sumia came earlier, looking quite distraught. I believe she would appreciate being left alone, for now."  
  
Lon'qu replied with an understanding nod, then breaking the silence after a few seconds of pause.  
  
"How are they faring, both Cherche and her wyvern?" he asked, their cries of agony as they were struck with the dark spell still vividly engraved in his mind. He had been lucky Cordelia was nearby, carrying the woman's unconscious body out of immediate danger on her pegasus while Lon'qu dealt with the ambushing Sorcerer. Matched by few in close quarters, the myrmidon had no issues closing the distance while dodging the mages slow spells, then putting a term to the vile being's life with two rapid strikes. Moving Minerva away from the battlefield had been a more delicate process, which had required the help of several men and beasts, along with a cart to displace her.  
  
"Not well, I fear," Libra replied, shaking his head slowly. "The foul magic penetrated their very core, rendering the usage of our healing staves nigh useless. They are… severely weakened, and feverish. To be perfectly honest, we do not know yet if they will even survive. It's a miracle their bones weren't shattered along with their armor in the first place, although I suppose you will see the results yourself when you do visit."  
  
Lon'qu lowered his head ever so slightly, clutching his jaws to repress the shaking overtaking his body. It was all his fault. Had he been more careful, the whole situation could have been avoided. Instead, incapable of watching his own surroundings, the wyvern and her rider had decided to forfeit their lives to save his own. Such was his cursed fate: unwillingly drawn to a woman for the first time since his days in Chon'sin, history had repeated itself. Once again, the very woman he had sworn to protect had sacrificed herself looking out for him. More than guilt, it was anger filling his body: anger born from the woman's foolishness and his own powerlessness, despite all the years he spent steeling his body to avoid such an utter failure ever again. Firmly keeping his jaw shut, he had to fully focus to hold back screams of frustration.  
  
The calm voice of the priest tore broke his self-blaming trance, bringing him back to the current world. "Sumia seemed… rather touched by Cherche's fate. Please do not be offended if she acts coldly towards you. The human mind, under the weight of sheer emotion, is not always rational. We all know you are not to blame for what happened."  
  
Lon'qu firmly shook his head, dismissing the cleric's attempt to reassure him. "You're wrong, priest. This wouldn't have happened had I been more careful. The blame is mine to bear alone."  
  
A deep breath escaped the lips of the blonde priest, who then locked his eyes into the swordsman's. "You may have not realized it, but Cherche looks up to you, Lon'qu."  
  
"How would you know?" the myrmidon interrupted defensively, escaping the gaze of the monk by looking to the side, arms crossed.  
  
"I have a certain… talent for reading people's struggles," Libra started, then pausing for a few seconds to gather his thoughts before continuing. "Both Chrom and Virion shared her tragic story to me. Many of her friends and comrades followed Rosanne, her homeland, in its demise. We all have our own demons we try to hide, and Cherche is no exception."  
  
"Her nightmares…" Lon'qu murmured, lowering his head as he remembered the night where he first met the woman. His own dreams had kept him up back then, as usual. The woman had hinted at her struggles this night. And yet, he didn't do anything, too self-absorbed with his past to realize the extent of her pain.  
  
"Being our newest recruit, it looks to me like she did her best to conceal her fears while she tried to fit in," the monk continued, ignoring the swordsman's reaction. "While she usually kept to herself, I believe she was getting closer to Sumia… and to you."  
  
Lon'qu raised his head, looking back at the priest. The man was right: ever since Robin had paired them together, they had seen each other on multiple occasions. They even had planned to meet after the last battle, the woman seemingly having something matters of importance to bring to his attention. Needless to say, these plans had been foiled because of the injuries both her and the wyvern sustained.  
  
Unphased, Libra continued, still staring at the man. "So close, in fact, that both her and Minerva forfeited their lives to save yours."  
  
A sympathetic smile formed on the monk's cheeks, who carried on before the swordsman could react. "Such a heavy burden they left you. It's almost selfish, you owe them your life because of their choice and theirs alone, and there's nothing you were able to do about it."  
  
It was the first time Lon'qu had such difficulties returning someone's gaze: it felt like the priest's lifeless emerald eyes were peering at his very soul, reading him like an open book. His chest tightened, it was getting too painful. The whole situation was just like back in Chon'sin, as Ke'ri fell to the bandits' blows. He remembered the girl dying in his arms as he wept over her gashing wounds, too weak to even offer him last words.  
  
The sight of Sumia leaving the infirmary was almost a relief, despite the resentful glare she threw at the swordsman as she walked away. Now wasn't the time to wallow in self despair. As long as the woman had the slightest chance to remain alive, he couldn't afford to give up.  
  
His composure regained, Lon'qu straightened, letting newfound resolve take over his doubts. "I do not leave my debts unpaid, priest. May I now visit her?"

The priest nodded, moving aside to free the way. "Stay as long as you want, but do not try to wake her up. And if she does wake up, make sure to call for me. Now if you excuse me, I still need to tend to Minerva."  
  
The swordsman didn't answer, instead walking to the entrance of the infirmary. Only as he moved past the opening did he mutter a single 'thank you', making sure to be away from the monk's hearing range.  
  
Inside, a few seconds were needed for his eyes to adapt to the obscurity. A single candle was lit near one of the beds, which was barely enough for the man to observe the surroundings. Under its sheets laid an immobile silhouette, which could only belong to the woman. As he walked to the bed, Lon'qu noticed hers was the only one occupied. They were alone, the room plunged into an eerie silence uncharacteristic of the usually noisy camp.  
  
A stool stood right next to the bed, probably previously occupied by Sumia. Near it was Cherche's armor, laying on the ground. The swordsman frowned as he realized the extent of the damage: the whole gear was battered, cut in multiple places because of the foul magic, which had been powerful enough to saw even through the steel. Even an expert blacksmith would have difficulties fixing such heavy damage.  
  
A prickling sensation shot up his spine as he turned to observe the laying woman, freezing him to the spot. Bandages covered most of her shoulders, tainted crimson red in numerous spots. While multiple sheets had been placed above the rest of her body to keep her warm, Lon'qu could only imagine her whole body was covered in such a fashion to stop her blood from flowing out.  
  
His knees nearly giving out, the swordsman let himself fall on the stool, taking a few seconds to come back to his senses before looking back at the woman. Her face was stuck in a pained expression, with deep furrows gathering on her forehead and next to her closed eyes. Her breath was thin and ragged, laboriously escaping her puckered lips. She was soaked in sweat, her damp hair spread behind her in a messy fashion.  
  
Fighting the impulse to run away, his gynophobia striking harder at him the longer he stood near the woman, he extended his hand to place it on her forehead, only to remove precipitately. She was burning with fever.  
  
On the nightstand nearby stood a bowl of water, accompanied by several humid rags. Hoping to somehow diminish her fever, Lon'qu grabbed one of the rags and applied her to her forehead. As he touched her, a sudden coughing fit shook the woman, making him quickly retract his arm again. Fighting off his instincts, he placed a hand behind Cherche's head, holding her still as drops of blood escaped her lips.  
  
"There, there. It's fine, just keep resting," Lon'qu instinctively comforted the wyvern rider as he placed her back on the pillow, then moving aside the few strands of hair that had fallen in front of her eyes. While he doubted the woman could even hear him, she had at least returned to her regular state, besides the puddles of blood now adorning the surroundings of her mouth. Grabbing the rag once again, he soaked it in the bowl before awkwardly applying it on the sides of her mouth. The drops of blood slowly vanished at the contact of the cold water, staining the fabric of cloth instead.  
  
"I will not allow you to die. Not until I repay my debt to you," he whispered as he cleaned Cherche's face, his uneasiness slowly but steadily disappearing as he focused all his efforts on improving the woman's condition. Once done, he set the dirtied rag aside and dampened another one, then applying it to the knight's forehead. A satisfied smile formed on his cheeks as the woman remained this time immobile, her breath growing ever so slightly more regular.  
  
Placing the bowl of water back on the nightstand, he leaned back on his stool and crossed his arms as he watched over the sleeping rider. While the night promised to be long, his muscles still sore from the recent battle, he couldn't rest just yet. The woman had saved his life on now multiple occasions, leaving Lon'qu with a heavy debt he intended to repay in full. Sleep could wait, just like he would for the woman to come back to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you were still wondering, the 'surprise' was the shift in the story's POV, as we now see the world through Lon'qu's eyes. I hope you enjoyed the read as much as I enjoyed writing this chapter.
> 
> As for the usual schedule stuff: looks like I managed to release this chapter in two weeks as always, despite thinking I'd need need another one to be ready. It is partly because this chapter is a bit shorter than the ones I recently released, mainly because it's meant as an introductory chapter to Lon'qu. The next chapter should be out in two weeks: with the summer being over, I should be back to regular schedules at work from now on.
> 
> That said, until next time! It's really been a blast writing this story lately and I appreciate the time you take to read my work, which I can only hope you enjoy.
> 
> 09/04/2018: Temporary update. It seems there is something wrong with my computer, which I'm going to have to get fixed. I hope to resolve this issue before long, but you may expect 1 to 2 weeks of delay for the next release as I'm currently unable to write. Apologies.


	12. Untold Feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.  
> -You may notice an element present in Lon'qu and Olivia's support conversation in this chapter, which seemed really appropriate to me to have here.  
> -I made a Twitter account (@nyubola) following the delay of the release of this chapter. While very empty for now (still didn’t set a bio or anything besides the pfp), I will use it to notify people of new releases and delays.

**Chapter 11: Untold Feelings**

Restless, Lon'qu couldn’t find any comfort in the cramped interior of his tent. Shifting from one side to another of his uncomfortable blanket over and over, countless unanswered questions weighing on his mind, Lon'qu was unable to find the liberating relief of sleep. Not once during the night had Cherche shown any hint of regaining consciousness. Keeping watch over the injured woman, it was only as Libra entered the infirmary in the early morning that Lon'qu left her side, at the request of the cleric. Her injuries had to been treated and her bandages changed, operations for which the swordsman's presence would only be a hindrance. Still, with the healer's permission, Lon'qu had been able to borrow the knight's destroyed armor before he left. While he couldn't directly help the woman recover, or the wyvern, maybe there was something he could at least do about her attire. Or rather, there was a person he knew that might just be able to, and who might just be still awake at such an early hour.

"This is pointless," he grumbled as he finally stood up, stretching his arms and his back before heading to the woman's armor he left in a corner of his room. Grabbing a nearby empty leather bag on the way, he crouched and proceeded to fit one piece of the armor after another in it, finishing with the helmet. Once done, he stood back up and tried his hand at lifting the bag for a few seconds. While somewhat heavy, it was carriable without much trouble: despite the armor being seemingly made of robust materials, its revealing design made it surprisingly light and kept the wielder's mobility intact, which he could only imagine came at the cost of protection.

Satisfied with the packaging, he cautiously dropped the bag and walked to a small wooden coffer laying next to his blanket. Inside was stashed two dozens flasks made of brown clay, each filled with water. Lon'qu grabbed four of them, attaching them to his belt before carefully closing the coffer's lid, out of fear of damaging them. He stood up and fastened the scabbard holding his blade next to his hip, then placing the bag on his shoulder before exiting the tent.

The faint red light of the rising sun greeted him as he pushed the flaps of his tent aside, forcing him to bring his free hand over his eyes to cover them until the luminosity wasn’t as much of a bother. After a couple of seconds, he moved here hand down to examine his surroundings. A lone immobile silhouette guarding the entrance of the camp was the only figure he could discern, its back turned to him. Lon'qu frowned as he realized the person wore long red hair, adorned with two wing-shaped hair clips: while there was no bad blood between him and Cordelia, in fact he was even grateful to her from rescuing Cherche, he was fully aware of his issues with women. Hoping to avoid any confrontation, he walked towards the camp entrance with a practiced brisk, internally cringing as he approached.

"You're an early riser," Cordelia observed as he walked past her, stopping him in his tracks.

Lon'qu's chest tightened at the sound of her voice, the familiar feeling of fear slowly creeping through his body. If he had been able to, he would have ran away until he wasn’t bothered anymore, but such an attitude was bound to raise suspicions in times of war. Instead, he had to bite the bullet and keep his uneasiness in check. As long as he made sure at least half a dozen of yards separated them, he could only assume he would be able to do so.

"I slept long enough," Lon'qu lied, turning to face the woman. Why the woman was awake so early was none of his business and, as such, he asked no questions back. The earlier he would be gone, the better.

"Good, we will need everyone at the top of their form if we’re to beat Walhart," she approved with a stoic nod, before turning her attention to the bag he was carrying. "This looks heavy. Do you require help to carry it?"

"No. I am fine," Lon'qu replied, turning his head to the side to avoid her gaze. Revealing the content of the bag would be too shameful. His eyes laid upon the distant city, where they landed not even a full day ago. It was there that he failed his duty, that he let the worst happen to his partners. Was it not for Cordelia timely intervention, the woman would likely be dead by now.

Gathering his courage, he faced the red-headed woman again, struggling to keep looking into her eyes.

"Thank you," the swordsman finally said after a pause, without any explanation.

Cordelia's eyes lit up for a split moment, a timid smile faintly forming on cheeks. She knew what he meant.

"I hope they will make it," she confessed, returning to her stoic demeanor.

"Cherche… still didn’t wake up," Lon'qu painfully revealed, unconsciously tightening the grip on his bag.

"I see." Cordelia lowered her head, then asking in an almost hushed voice. "What about Minerva?"

"I have no rights to visit her. It is my fault they are in this state, Cherche wouldn't want me anywhere near her friend."

Cordelia opened her mouth, seemingly about to protest, but stopped before any sound could come out. Suddenly looking away in the horizon, she paused for a few seconds before replying. "It is nice to see she found someone that holds her so dearly."

The discomfort he felt at the woman’s presence grew tenfold. The last thing he wanted was to get in a discussion about his feelings, especially with a woman no matter how beholden he was to her. "I have no idea what you are speaking about."

"There’s no point holding yourself accountable for what happened. If anyone’s, it is Walhart’s doing," Cordelia continued, ignoring his remark.

That was it, it was getting too much. His fear of the woman, his anger at his own powerlessness, his sadness at Cherche and her friend’s fate. He couldn’t stay here, any longer and he would burst. Mustering his last remnants of self-control to keep a straight face, he adjusted the bag position on his shoulder, making ready to depart. "I'm going training," he said before turning, walking away from the camp.

He barely heard the last words of Cordelia, lost in the increasing distance and his own confusion. "Take care of yourself, Lon’qu."

Like hell he would. How could he afford to when Cherche didn’t even regain consciousness. The nerve of that woman, daring to mention his bond with the wyvern rider. Cherche, so dear to him? Preposterous. While Lon’qu appreciated that her partner never once tried to pry into his problems, theirs was a purely professional relationship. Never would they speak outside of battle and other martial meetings, except that conversation Cherche seemed so intent on having after the landing. And yet, his chest tightened at the memory of the woman’s cries of pain as she was struck by the dark spell. To see her so broken, laying unconscious on the infirmary bed, made his heart ache in such a way he never felt since Ke'ri's death.

Lost in somber thoughts, Lon’qu barely realized his steps had brought him to the edge of the nearby forest. Around him, numerous tree stumps laid bare, devoid of their trunks. The Valmese war effort had taken its toll on nature just as much as men. The swordsman carefully dropped his bag on the ground, then examined his surroundings. While he couldn’t see anyone, he had no doubts he was far enough from the camp for the person he had business with to meet him. He just had to wait.

Untying one of the flasks from his belt, he walked to a stump nearly tall enough to reach his hips and placed the object on it. Walking back two steps, he observed the object for a couple of seconds. Standing on a precarious position on the irregular surface of the trunk, it seemed any gust could easily tip it off. A small cork was sealing it, preventing the water from spilling. Swift like the wind, his strike was sudden, the weapon unsheathed and swung at the flask in one fluid motion. The container shattered under the force of the impact, sending a myriad of pieces of clay and water everywhere around.

The swordsman winced, throwing the remnants of the flask away before grabbing another one and setting it up on the stump. Anger fueling his blows, his strikes destroyed both the second and the third flask. With an exasperated sigh, he grabbed his last one and placed it on the very same stump, now drenched with the contents of the previous flasks.

"Focus," Lon'qu said to himself, attempting to calm his mind. He remained still in front of the trunk for a few more seconds, focusing on his breath. A steady mind for a steady body, this was the key to successful swordsmanship. His next blow struck higher than the previous, right under the cork. While the movement seemed perfect, the power of the strike still resulted in the container destruction, with one of the fragments sent flying grazing the skin near his left eye.

"Close one," a voice called out from the edge of the forest. Lon'qu averted his gaze away from the stump to observe the trees. On the closest one stood Gaius, sitting triumphantly on top of its lowest branch with one piece of clay in his hand. As expected, it hadn’t been long before the thief found him, no doubt returning from one of his nocturnal ventures.

"Not even close. I'm supposed to slice them open without spilling a single drop," Lon'qu answered while sheathing his weapon.

"Well, keep at it, as they say," Gaius replied as he jumped from the branch, landing gracefully on the ground a couple of yards below. "Anyway, what's up? Seems like you were looking for me."

"Your wit is as sharp as your blade, friend," the swordsman said before dropping his bag, opening it to let the thief observe its content. "You are familiar with metallurgy, right?"

"I reckon I do decent," Gaius claimed before closing the distance, then crouching besides the bag and grabbing one of the pieces of metal from it. "Isn’t it Cherche’s armor?"

"Can you fix it?" Lon'qu asked impatiently, unwilling to delve upon such details.

The thief tossed the piece back into the bag and stood up to look at his friend in the eyes. "Don't know, it's pretty busted. I can give it a try, but no promise, alright? I'm no professional blacksmith."

Lon'qu nodded, silently acknowledging his request. "How much will I owe you?" the swordsman finally asked, bringing a hand to his purse.

"You kidding?" Gaius replied, bringing an hand to the back of his head. "For you my friend, this is free."

The myrmidon returned a brief grateful smile, so rarely appearing on his visage. Perhaps unexpectedly, the two men shared a genuinely friendly relationship, the swordsman deeply appreciating how the thief never invaded his privacy, despite how easily his position would have allowed him to do so. As for Gaius, only the thief knew what he saw in the swordsman to behave in such a friendly manner with him.

"I appreciate it, Gaius. Truly."

The thief shrugged and raised a dismissive hand. "Don't mention it. You got something planned this morning?"

"I need to keep training," Lon'qu replied, glancing at one of the fallen pieces of clay. "There are some moves I want perfected."

"Gotcha. Meet you for lunch?" Gaius casually asked while effortlessly carrying the bag over his shoulder, demonstrating significant expertise with hauling such loads.

"Very well. I will see you there."

The thief brought two fingers to his temple, then waving them at Lon'qu with a wink. A few seconds later he was gone, running under the cover of the trees surprisingly quickly. Now alone, the swordsman moved a few yards away from the pieces of clay on the ground, unwilling to step on one of them. Unsheathing his katana, he remained still for a few seconds, eyes closed.

Inhale. Exhale. Visualize the battlefield. Lon’qu opened his eyes, an imaginary enemy standing in front of him. The swordsman's blade was a death sentence, cutting the foe from the right shoulder to his left hip in one swift motion. Lon'qu rapidly turned around, raising his sword to parry an imagined axe falling on his head. Kicking his target in the belly, he followed the strike with a slash from his weapon.

"Too slow," he angrily said to himself, sheathing his blade before returning to his original position. Honing his body was vital if he was to protect anyone. Locking his thoughts on the training, he repeated the same motions, felling a foe after another.

"Again."

The same movements, over and over. Continuous practice was the only way to reach mastery.

"Again!"

Drops of sweat leaked down his face as he jumped to the side to dodge a fictional arrow, before closing the distance between him and the archer in a few steps, ending his life as quickly as the swordsman's mind created it. His arms heavy, Lon'qu looked up, panting. The sun was shining bright, having almost reached its highest position in the sky. Time had passed faster than he imagined, as it was always the case whenever he trained. Sheathing his katana, he brought a hand over his eyes and frowned.

"Should have saved some water," he observed, realizing how thirsty he was. As if to echo this thought, his stomach audibly rumbled. It wa about time he found something to eat. Wiping the sweat off his face with the back of his wrist, he left his training grounds, heading towards the camp weary but ever so slightly more confident.

*

"I took a look at the armor," Gaius started, briefly raising his eyes from his plate. "I should be able to fix it, but it's going to take a while. The whole thing's totally busted."

"I see. This is a relief," Lon'qu earnestly replied. Finding a blacksmith out of the camp was an impossible task, with the army being continuously on the move. As for the Ylissean and Feroxi blacksmiths, they simply hadn’t the time to engage in such a task. Cherche’s armor was simply too far from the norm, and too damaged, to be fixed in a realistic timeframe. Understandably, the blacksmiths had their priority set to fix the regular, and uninjured, soldiers' gear.

Finding a quiet place in the mess hall had been a hassle, most Shepherds loudly sharing their personal experience of the previous battle to their companions, creating a deafening ambient noise that Lon'qu struggled to ignore. Him and Gaius had settled for one of the corners of the room, located at the opposite of the food trays. While the noise was still very much present, they were isolated enough that it didn’t affect them as much.

Gaius set his spoon and plate aside, still half filled with various vegetables, before looking at Lon'qu with excitement. "Did you hear about the new girl? The one we saved yesterday."

"The one Chrom rescued," the swordsman remarked, placing emphasis on the Exalt's name. He had heard about the woman, like everyone. Saved from Valmese Knights by Chrom and the pegasus riders, she was the last remaining member of the rebel force the Ylissean scouts had spotted in the city. He didn’t know much more about her identity, or who were even these rebels, the woman having spent the whole morning in the command tent along with the Ylissean leaders.

"Yeah, exactly!" Gaius exclaimed, snapping his fingers. He leaned over the table, now whispering. "She's actually one of the reasons most of the Valmese stayed on this continent for so long, the rebellion has kept Walhart's forces busy for quite some time."

"Until yesterday, it seems," Lon'qu observed, casually taking another spoon from his plate.

"She's from Chon'sin, like you. The name's Say'ri," Gaius said, ignoring the man's remark.

Lon’qu eyes instantly rose up from his plate as he fixated them into Gaius', his interest sparked. "Are you sure about this?"

The thief shrugged and leaned back into his chair. "I do a decent job at gathering information, I reckon."

"Add this to your findings, then. If it is the same Say’ri that I think of, then this person is of royal blood." While the swordsman had never seen the woman as he lived in his homeland, he was familiar with its royal family. If it was indeed the same Say'ri, then that person was the princess of his former country.

"You kidding me?" Gaius exclaimed excitedly. "Do you know each other?"

"No," Lon'qu replied, bringing his attention back to his plate. The identity of the woman wasn’t of interest to him, he simply happened to recognize that name. In the end, he was content with following orders, the details were better left to the commanders of the army.

Gaius' expression changed to one of concern, his voice slightly lower than usual. "You're making that face again."

"What?" the swordsman asked, genuinely confused.

"Look, what I'm saying is be careful, alright? Remember that sorcerer you killed? Most people here worship Naga, but that guy was dabbling in dark magic. Now I don’t want to make assumptions there, but we may be dealing with more than the Valmese alone."

"Get to the point," Lon'qu replied, a somber look appearing on his face at the mention of the man that hurt Cherche and her friend.

"Peace. I'm getting there," he said, raising his hand as if to settle down the swordsman. "What I mean is that there's either someone there teaching people dark magic, or Plegia is working against our backs. They're Grima worshippers after all. That scum is quite fond of this magic."

The thief's hostility was palpable. About to comment on it, Lon'qu was cut short by the arrival of Libra, the blonde cleric.

"There you are Lon'qu, I was looking for you. Cherche is requesting your presence."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plenty of character development for Lon'qu today, which should bring at least some insight on his actions and his behavior. I still quite enjoy writing from his point of view.
> 
> As for the meta stuff concerning the story. I ran into an issue with my computer which led to the one week delay release of this chapter. I was lucky enough to speak with people that told me about Word being free on phone, which let me write this chapter while being computer stranded. While my computer is still at a shop for repairs, I am able to keep writing this story, which is great.
> 
> Next chapter will be released in either one or two weeks, as usual. See you then!
> 
> 10/05/19: My computer died again, and with it the chapter I wrote. I'm kind of saddened by it, as it means I have to write everything again, and on phone. I'm already one week late, and will probably need another week because writing thousands of words on phone just take so long. Well anyway I didn't drop the fiction and will work hard to get the next chapter out as soon as I can, my apologies for the delay.


	13. Fate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.

**Chapter 12: Fate**

The monk pushed aside the curtains of the infirmary, leaving the way inside open for Lon'qu.

"While she is out of immediate danger, be careful not to tire her further. She needs rest," Libra explained, still holding the flaps of the tent open while watching Lon'qu.

"Understood. May I enter?" the swordsman asked, returning the priest's gaze.

"Go ahead."  
  
Lon'qu entered the tent, alone. Cherche was laying in the same bed as the previous time, in the corner of the tent. As he approached, he noticed the woman had new bandages, this time devoid of blood stains. It was a good sign: her wounds had probably started to close. Her eyes closed, a quiet yet steady breath was escaping her lips.

The swordsman walked to the bed and extended his arm towards her, before stopping in his tracks. "Cherche. How are you faring?" he asked, awkwardly standing still next to the woman.

"Who's there?" she said in a pained whisper, then slowly opening her eyes and blinking a few times in his direction as if she could not see straight.

"Lon'qu. I heard you were look-"

"Lon’qu! I see you now, thank the Gods you are safe!" Cherche exclaimed, tears forming in the corner of her eyes and beginning to fall down her cheeks.

He nodded, forcing himself to smile despite his worry. "I wouldn’t be there if not for you."

"I'm glad," she murmured while wiping her tears with the back of her hand, frequently interrupted by uncontrolled sniffles.

Lon'qu reached for one of his pockets and grabbed a small handkerchief. "There, take this. It’s clean, I didn’t use it," he reassured the woman before giving her the tissue, not daring to go as far as wiping her tears himself. An involuntary shiver swept through his body at the contact of Cherche’s cold trembling hand. With an uncomfortable cough, he moved back a few steps and observed the knight. While not using the tissue, letting her hand lay on the side of her bed, she seemed to slowly relax. After less than a minute her breath was steady and only the narrow wet trails under her eyes revealed her earlier distress.  
  
"Lon’qu. I want… no, I need to see Minerva now," she abruptly declared with a resolve-filled voice while staring at him, her tone suffering no rebuttal.  
  
Hesitation filled the swordsman’s mind, deep lines of worry forming on his forehead as he remembered Libra’s warning. The woman was too weak still, to let her out now could further aggravate her injuries. And yet, her body was brimming with defiance as she laboriously pushed herself up, her eyes shining with newfound determination.  
  
"Understood," Lon’qu finally said."I will take you to her, as long as you promise not to be reckless."  
  
A relieved sigh slipped away from her subtly shaking lips as she paused her efforts to get herself up and nodded. Removing his jacket, he approached Cherche and placed it around her shoulders before retreating a few steps away while she silently pulled the sleeves up her arms. Looking away from her, he embarrassedly held an opened hand that he hoped not shaking in her direction. Without hesitation, Cherche grabbed it with a deceptively strong grip. A couple of seconds later, with a little pull from the man, she was back on her feet and looking at him expectantly.  
  
"Not a word of this to Libra, alright?" he asked. "I doubt he’d let me visit you again if he heard of this."  
  
"You do not have to worry," she replied. "Pray tell me this instead: where is Minerva?"  
  
"I would rather lead the way to her. I’m not about to leave you by yourself in this state."

"I appreciate your concern, but I feel fine. I rested more than enough already," she confidently answered, rolling her right shoulder a couple of times.  
  
Lon’qu heavily doubted such a bold statement. Her body still covered with bandages under her clothes, she had only just woke up from several days of unconsciousness. "I insist, I will keep an eye over you," he maintained after crossing his arms.

"I never said you couldn’t," Cherche remarked. "In fact, you are welcomed to, as long as we depart immediately."  
  
"Good," Lon’qu said as he unfolded his arms, relieved with the knight’s cooperation. "I’m going on ahead, I will call for you if the way is clear."  
  
His answer met with an understanding nod, the swordsman turned on his heels and he made his way to the entrance, followed closely behind by Cherche. _At least she can walk by herself_ , he observed, sneaking a quick look behind him. While he could carry the woman to the wyvern if the need arose, it was a possibility he would rather avoid. Lon’qu opened one of the tent’s flaps and stepped outside, carefully observing the surroundings. The evening air was crisp and cool, raising goosebumps all over his uncovered arms. Dusk had already fallen on the camp, plunging it in ever rising darkness. Of the army, he could only discern several shadows drifting between the tents, not even throwing one glance in his direction. More importantly, Libra wasn’t nearby, which in turn meant they wouldn’t have to sneak their way to the stables.  
  
"You can come outside," Lon’qu called, still careful not to speak too loudly. Not a second later, the flaps opened, revealing Cherche’s figure.  
  
"Where are we heading?" she asked, a steamy cloud forming in front of her mouth as she spoke. An almost imperceptible shiver running through her body, she fastened the swordsman’s vest around her body and stared at him.  
  
Lon’qu started walking, immediately followed by the woman, before answering. "They keep her at the edge of the camp, isolated but still protected."  
  
"How is she?"  
  
"I cannot say. I didn’t visit her since the… incident," he added after a split second of hesitation. "She is a tough one though, I believe she can recover."  
  
"I pray this is the case. I… I don’t know what I would do if she left me."  
  
"She’s still among us, don’t give up on hope just yet. I’m sure seeing you will please her greatly."  
  
The woman breathed deeply, keeping her eyes closed for a few seconds. "Yes… Yes, you’re right. She’s stronger than me, she will be just fine."  
  
Lon’qu nodded in approval and carried his attention back to the camp’s dusty path they were following. His usual uneasiness around women was gone when with Cherche, he remarked again, replaced by a sense of concern for her wellbeing. A surprisingly recurring phenomenon with the woman, as of late. Once a burden he was forced to support during battles, the knight had become someone he longed to protect. Something he failed at, miserably. As a boy, his powerlessness led to the death of the girl he yearned for, Ke’ri. Years later, it was because of his weakness that he could not protect not only Cherche, but Minerva as well. Was there even any point for him to fight, if it only brought pain to the people he held dear?  
  
Somber thoughts overtaking his mind, Lon’qu almost didn’t realize they had covered most of the way separating them from the camp’s edge, his steps mechanically carrying him to his destination. Perhaps respecting his silence, or maybe struggling with thoughts of her own, Cherche had remained quiet too, almost turning their march into a solemn procession.  
  
"Huh? Cherche? Shouldn’t you be in bed right now?" a voice suddenly called to the pair, tearing him away from his sinister contemplations. Fifty feet away was standing a blonde teen next to a massive wooden shelter, holding in her hands what Lon’qu identified as a mending staff of poor looking condition. He instantly recognized the girl as Lissa, both a cleric of the Ylissean army and the sister of Chrom, its leader. With messy hair and dark bags under her eyes, it was obvious the young cleric had been lacking sleep lately. As for her clothing, her sophisticated dress was stained with dried mud in countless spots. Before anyone could answer, a weak yet familiar roar emerged from the building. Ignoring the question, Cherche sprinted past the bewildered girl, soon followed by the swordsman and confused calls from the young cleric.  
  
Perhaps high on adrenaline, the woman ran surprisingly quickly despite her recent injuries. Trying to keep up with her, Lon’qu darted past the corner of the building and rammed through the door with his left shoulder as it closed on him, almost falling to the floor as it offered no resistance to the impact. Cherche was already two knees on the ground, holding her wyvern in a tight embrace. Barely moving, the creature’s breathing was weak and irregular, disrupted with regular pained whimpers. Under her skin ran numerous violaceous lines, pulsating and shining bright enough to be seen even behind the cover of her thick black scales.  
  
"I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!"  
  
Lon’qu lowered his head and fixed his gaze on the woman on the ground, repeating the same cries over and over as she buried her face in the wyvern’s neck. Perhaps too weak to answer, Minerva gently laid her head on her master’s shoulder, her closed eyes and apparent peacefulness in stark contrast to the distress of the knight.  
  
Unable to think of a course of action, Lon’qu froze, awkwardly staring at the injured pair from a distance. The feminine voice suddenly rising behind tore him out of his torpor, surprising him enough to grip the hilt of his weapon as he turned around.  
  
"Geez, I really could’ve done without the running!" Lissa complained, seemingly not noticing the swordsman’s surprise.  
  
In their hurry, he had already forgotten the cleric was right behind them. He felt his old fear returning, his body involuntarily tensing up as Lissa approached him.  
  
"How bad is it?" Lon’qu asked while gesturing toward the wyvern before the cleric came near, in an attempt to keep her a safe distance away. To his relief, Lissa stopped in her tracks and looked in the same direction.  
  
"Pretty bad. Usually she’s faring decently like this but… all of a sudden, she has these crisis where she will trash around everywhere and let out these loud scary screams. That’s why we keep her here actually. The horses and pegasii were getting scared, hearing the poor girl’s cries."  
  
"How often does it happen?"  
  
The girl shifted from one foot to the other, visibly getting uncomfortable.  
  
"It’s been getting more common lately… and more severe, too" she finally replied with a hushed voice, that Cherche didn’t seem to notice. "We used to be able to handle them, but now she needs several of us tending to her. Which is mostly damage control, to be honest. We try to alleviate her pain with our magic while it happens, but that’s about as much as we can currently do."  
  
"Can she be cured?"  
  
"Eventually, maybe? I sure hope so anyway, but… it’s already a miracle we got her out of here alive. It was already bad for Cherche, but Minerva took the brunt of the spell. Had she been rescued but several minutes later and she’d be long gone already."  
  
"I see. Is there anything-"  
  
"Minerva?" Cherche interrupted before the swordsman could finish. The knight had moved a foot away from the wyvern, looking at her with confusion, immobile.  
  
On the ground, Minerva had started writhing faster and faster on the floor, her limbs stretching out in disorderly fashion. Previously dim, the mauve lines coursing through her body were now burning, radiating a menacing crimson color. A deafening feral scream escaped her maw, only to turn into a jagged whimper halfway through. Lissa had been the first to react, turning away and running to the exit as soon as the crisis of the wyvern started.  
  
"Where are you going? She needs help!" Lon’qu exclaimed, taking a step forward as he tried to stop her.  
  
"I can’t do it by myself!" she replied as she slammed the door open. "Libra is standing by nearby. We’ll be back before you know it, so you just worry about keeping yourself and Cherche out of harm’s way."  
  
Before he had the time to answer, the girl had already sprinted outside, leaving Lon’qu alone with a dazed Cherche and her frantic wyvern. The beast, trashing about wildly harder by the second, was dangerously close to sweep away her master with one of her powerful limbs. Concerned with the safety of the woman, Lon’qu dashed to her and grabbed her arm, then forcefully yanking on it to pull her away.  
  
"W-What?" Cherche asked as he moved her to the wall. The knight was clearly disoriented, having trouble even simply returning the gaze of Lon’qu.  
  
"Get a grip!" he ordered, briefly shaking her by the shoulders. "The last thing we need is another injured person on our hands."  
  
The knight grabbed both the swordsman’s arms, holding tightly onto them as tears welled up in her eyes. "Please Lon’qu! We need to help her!"  
  
"You have to believe in Lissa and Libra. They are working day and night to keep her alive."  
  
"Gods… Seeing her like this, it hurts me so much..." she confessed, her tears now flowing freely down her cheeks to the ground below. Shaking, her knees gave way and she nearly fell to the ground, only the strong grip of Lon’qu on her arms keeping her standing.  
  
"Should we wait outside?"  
  
Cherche shook her head, the long crimson strands of her hair falling over her pained visage as she stared to the ground. "N-no. Do you mind if I hold on to your hand? My arms are starting to hurt."  
  
"Sorry. I didn’t realize," Lon’qu replied, precipitately releasing the pressure on her arms, her soft skin now marked by thin red lines. Carefully, the woman grabbed the swordsman’s left hand and used it as an anchor point to remain standing. In front of them, the wyvern was still squirming, unable to even growl anymore.  
  
"Do you think-" Cherche started, only to be interrupted by the door being pushed open. Libra hurried inside, followed by Lissa and two other clerics clad in white robes. All of them but the blond man circled Minerva, bradishing healing staves in her direction while remaining a safe distance away. The tip of the rods shone, continuously surrounding the wyvern with a green healing energy. Not assisting the trio yet, the blond priest instead walked over to Cherche and Lon’qu.  
  
"If you are to stay here, do not approach her under any circumstances or you may endanger her further. Is that understood?" Libra firmly asked, looking with insistence in the knight’s direction.  
  
"Yes. Please... save her," Cherche answered, accompanied with a nod of approval from the swordsman.  
  
"We shall do our best. No matter what happens, do not interfere," the priest ordered before occupying the last free spot near the wyvern, the clerics now forming a circle around her.  
  
Faint at the beginning, the tip of the healing staves glew brighter and brighter as the minutes passed by, the intensity of the green healing lights matching the one of the violaceous lines passing through Minerva’s body. Clutching the swordsman’s left hand with enough force to actually pain him, Cherche had her eyes riveted on her wounded friend. She and Lon’qu remained immobile, powerless to do anything but pray, observing the incapacitated wyvern as she writhed on the floor in agony for what felt like hours. Too weak to let out more than faint cries, the movements of Minerva were increasingly lethargic as the purple lines spread through her body, becoming brighter by the minute.  
  
As the first rays of the sun appeared from outside, creeping through the hastily placed shelter’s planks, Lissa’s mending staff snapped in half, snatching a startled scream from her lips. It was followed by one the other’s cleric’s collapse, immediately tended to by the other one. Libra lowered his staff and pointed at the barely conscious priest with his free hand. On the ground, the wyvern was still moving around, albeit barely.  
  
"Lissa, please help get him out of here. Make sure he gets some rest, too."  
  
The girl complied without question and hurried to the incapacitated man, helping him get on his feet along with the help of the other cleric. Once standing, they walked him outside the shelter, carrying him by under the shoulders.  
  
"Wait. What are you..." Cherche started, stopping as Libra dropped his staff, breaking in half as it touched the ground. Ignoring her question, he walked in front of the wyvern and knelt, placing a comforting hand over her head.  
  
"You were most brave. Rest without worry, your days of suffering are over. From now on, you will be in the God’s care," he reassured Minerva, her eyes slowly closing under his comforting touch.  
  
Lon’qu’s grip’s on the woman’s hand slipped as she leapt forward, moving to the priest as he rose from the ground.  
  
"What is the meaning of this? She is cured, right?" she demanded, her voice saturated with concern.  
  
A pained expression crossed Libra’s visage, who bit his lower lips for a split second before imperceptibly lowering his head.  
  
"I am truly sorry, Cherche. There isn’t anything we can do anymore. I will give you privacy, so that you can give Minerva a proper farewell."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was a tough chapter to write, with an ending perhaps unexpected to you.
> 
> As for myself, I'm finally back, months behind schedule. My computer took a couple of months to be repaired, I had to replace a lot of the hardware too. I've also been pretty busy, both with work and exams which left me with very restricted time. Despite this, I still intend to continue the story and properly finish it. Also, I may or may not keep the one chapter every two weeks rythm because of how busy I'm getting, but it definitely will not be the next chapter in four or five months again. Until next time, take care!


	14. Alone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.

**Chapter 13: Alone  
** ****  
The priests had left, leaving Cherche and Lon'qu alone with the dying wyvern. Now barely moving, only the crimson lines running through her body were proof of her earlier crisis. Ignoring the pain running through her body, the woman had found herself on her knees, embracing the body of Minerva without even realizing it. Over her shoulder, the warm yet irregular breath of her friend was flowing on her neck, a meager solace for the woman's distress.

"I am so sorry, sweetheart," Cherche sobbed, pressing her face against the creature's rough scales moistened by her flowing tears. Minerva's torso was softly moving up and down as Cherche caressed her sides, the wyvern peacefully breathing despite her condition. A rising tingling sensation on the right hand of the woman interrupted the embrace, causing her to move back ever so slightly. Confused, she glanced at her hand and the spot she had been stroking, right above one of the lines coursing the body of the wyvern. Her palm, marked by a thin red discoloration, was throbbing with acute pain. A shiver ran down Cherche's spine: if she had managed to burn herself while only touching one of the crimson narrow marks, she could only imagine how her friend was feeling. Clutching her hand to ignore the pain, the knight lifted her head and met the concerned gaze of Minerva.

"Silly... how can you even worry about me in a time like this?" she cried, lowering her head in defeat. She made no efforts to wipe the tears flowing down her face, dropping on her knees. Maybe trying to comfort her, the wyvern extended her neck forward and gently nudged the woman's cheek with her nose.

"You have always been so kind, it's unfair. Why did this have to happen to you?" Cherche lamented, letting her friend's pushes go unanswered. Moving her head back, Minerva stared at the silent swordsman observing in silence from the corner of the shelter before letting out a weak yell that could almost have been mistaken for a purr.

"Glad we both are safe? What good is this if I can't be with you anymore."

Minerva gave no answer, instead dragging the woman closer with light pushes from her head. Not resisting her, Cherche let the wyvern bring her in a tender embrace. She was her most trusted friend, the one that was always by her side no matter how she felt. Ever since they met, they had been watching over each other as they grew and trained together. To lose her now, while Rosanne was occupied and most of her friends gone, would be a blow she knew she wouldn't recover from.

Her perception of the outside world was gone, the flow of time replaced by a stream of tears. Holding on Minerva for dear life, fearing her friend would be gone if she let go, she felt the breath of the wyvern go slower and slower. Her pulse was weak. Her warmth, gone. Barely moving at first, Minerva went immobile, her head growing heavy on the knight's shoulder.

"Hey, Minerva. Please… Don't do this," Cherche called out, her voice trembling from worry. The knight's call remained unanswered, Minerva going limp between her arms. Her whole body shivering, Cherche gently grabbed the wyvern by the chin and moved back to observe her, only to see her eyes close slowly. Suddenly, the head of her companion grew heavy in her hands, too heavy for the rider to be able to support its weight anymore. Unceremoniously, the wyvern fell to the ground, its once powerful muscles helpless to carry her body. On her flanks, the crimson lines had stopped shimmering and were gradually losing their intensity, a pale yet cruel remained of her ordeal. One last time, her mouth opened, letting out a short and final breath.

"Minerva… Come on, stop joking around," Cherche weakly protested, hastily rising to her feet. Her surroundings spun as she stood, the world transforming into an indiscernible blur. Closing her eyes in a futile effort to focus, her knees gave way and she collapsed. Surprisingly, the fall didn't hurt. In fact, she didn't feel anything.

"This is enough, Cherche. You need to rest," a voice called from above her.

The knight grunted, confused, before opening her eyes. Above was Lon'qu, peering into her eyes as he held her in his powerful arms. No wonder the fall didn't hurt, she hadn't even touched the ground in the first place.

"I'm bringing you to the infirmary," Lon'qu declared as he gently pulled her back to her feet. Despite his claim, his hands lingered on her shoulders, obviously reluctant to leave her on her own.

"Can you stand on her own?" he asked, a brief crack of his voice hinting at his concern.

"I…" Cherche started, a knot in her throat preventing her from finishing her sentence.

Minerva was gone, leaving her alone for the first time in years. She lifted her head to meet the swordsman's look, tears welling up inside her eyes. He had remained all this time watching over her in silence as she bid farewell to her friend. It was to save him that she ordered Minerva to intervene, taking the brunt of the foul magic for her sake. It was because of her that the wyvern suffered for so long, to protect her own selfish interests that she ultimately died. Unable to hold it anymore, she gracelessly fell forward, burying the side of her head against his torso. Tears that she thought long dried rushed down her cheeks as she kept on crying.

"This is all my fault," she sobbed uncontrollably, too weak to even raise her arms and hold on Lon'qu's body.

The strong man's arms wrapped tighter around her shoulders and the back of her head, his body the only anchor keeping her standing on her feet. Whether he agreed or not with her laments, Lon'qu remained silent, stiffly holding the woman close to him as she cried to her heart's content. Powerless to save anyone, the bloody war kept taking away from her her friends, leaving her broken and lonely. She quivered harder, losing control of both mind and body. First Delion and her companions in Castle Virion, now Minerva, everyone close to her died one after another. While her first loss was due to her own weakness, this time she had nothing to blame for her friend's death but her own command.

Cherche did not know how long she wept, losing tracks of her own thoughts as she gave in to grief and despair. It was only as she slowly came to her senses, too spent to let out a single sob, that she realized he had been holding her the whole time without a single word of protest while she was thrashing in his arms. Embarrassed, she bit her lower lip and looked to the side, only to see the body of Minerva. Hurriedly closing her eyes, she moved a few steps back, freeing herself from the grasp of the swordsman.

"I'm sorry. Can we go? I can't.. I cannot bear to stay here any longer."

"Let's. I will help you back to the infirmary," he spoke while offering his arm. Cherche grabbed it without hesitation with both her hands, barely noticing the man's shoulders going stiff as she clung to him.

"Are you ready?" Lon'qu asked, throwing a fleeting glance in her direction.

"Y-yes. Let's just go, please," she pleaded. Without waiting for an answer, she took a first step forward, quickly followed by Lon'qu at her side. Focusing on the door, the knight forced herself not to look behind her. She couldn't give her friend a last look, lest she would break again. As they left, Cherche spotted Libra waiting outside the building. As they passed him, he bowed his head before entering Minerva's final resting place.

 

*

 

One day had passed since the passing of the wyvern. Or rather, a night, filled with anguish and nightmares. The timid morning sun had only now begun to rise, its meager rays a poor comfort against the brisk, cold breeze of the nearby ocean. On a cliff close to the edge of the camp, Chrom, the Shepherds and several soldiers of the Ylissean army had gathered around the massive grave dug for Minerva. Cherche appreciated the time the Ylissean prince set aside to hold the burial, despite the raging war. Further away from the camp, she had been told the Khans Basilio and Flavia were attending to the burials of the many fallen soldiers of the Feroxi's army, severely hit by the Valmese mages during the landing.

Cherche stood in front of the grave, the joints of her right hand whitening as she tightened her grip on the wooden stick she used as a crutch. Standing on a makeshift platform stood Libra and Chrom, speaking words of condolences and encouragements that she paid little to no attention to. Patiently, she waited, staring at the curled up body of her friend in the pit. Peaceful even in death, part of her wished only to join the wyvern, that she would never have to be alone again. Her tears were long gone, her distress replaced with an empty, surreal feeling.

"Do not think of this as a farewell, for in time we will all meet again in the kingdom of the Gods. Until then, if you have anything to tell Minerva, do so now or wait for the day you will be reunited with her."

Cherche rose her head, meeting the insistent gaze of the priest looking at her from the small platform. Still slightly confused, she lowered her eyes to her left hand. In her grasp was her winged helmet, crafted and given to her the day of her knighting. As the first and only wyvern of Rosanne, the tailored metal helmet was a symbol of her bond with Minerva.

Raising her head once again, the knight clenched her jaw as she walked forward. She couldn't afford to flinch, not now, not while everyone was looking at her expectandly. There was nothing to say, not anymore. She had already bid her friend farewell last night, painfully so. Clenching her wooden cane harder, the knight dropped the helmet in the grave. It landed with a small thump on the soft ground below, right in front of Minerva's head. Without a word, she turned, briefly shutting down her eyes to prevent any tears from forming. She couldn't cry, not again. Now alone, left to her own after relying all these years on Minerva, Cherche had to be strong if she was to keep going. A small limp hindering her march, she returned to her position, forcing herself to keep her chin up. Next to her, Lon'qu exited the audience to take her spot near the grave, giving the knight a small nod of encouragement as she passed her. He stopped in front of the pit, keeping a stern face as he looked at the wyvern below.

"I shall not forget your sacrifice, for it is the sole reason I am still standing today. I owe my life to you, and for this in return I vow to protect everything you were fighting for," the swordsman declared, then going back to his spot next to Cherche.

A faint blush crept on the woman's cheeks as Lon'qu returned, that she forced away by keeping her stare right in front of her. Maybe, just maybe, she was not as alone as she initially thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is, this time not as late as the previous chapter. I've slowly been picking up my usual writing rythm back, and I hope I to deliver the next chapter ever quicker next time.
> 
> Minerva's death might come as a shock, but this is something I've been planning since the very beginning. I believe it will prove to change the story's dynamics in a positive way, and I hope you will enjoy what's to come next. Until next time, reader!


	15. Confession

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -I do not own Fire Emblem and do not make any profit from this story.

 

**Chapter 14: Confession  
** **  
** Cherche left as two of the Ylissean soldiers started shoveling earth in the grave, her example soon followed by most of the Shepherds. Still weary from the night, she dragged her feet to the tent she was sharing with the two pegasus riders. Upon entering, she remarked her bed had been prepared and her belongings neatly packed next to it. Making a mental note to find and thank whoever took the time to take care of her personal effects, she let herself fall on the straw mattress and stared at the empty ceiling of the room, too exhausted to even manage to fall asleep.   
  
A couple of minutes passed by, until the knight couldn’t bear both the inactivity and the loneliness anymore. Feeling empty, she struggled to find the motivation to sit on her bed.  
  
_Well, no point sitting there doing nothing_ , she thought, looking around for anything that could occupy her. Still busy burying the dead and foraging supplies for the living, the army wouldn’t be on the move for a few hours, if not more.  
  
Lowering her gaze, Cherche caught sight of her bag, still neatly tied close. She grabbed her trusty battleaxe strapped to it, mindlessly running her finger over its shaft as she gauged the weapon’s weight. It would probably take a while before she’d be able to go back to the frontlines, if she was ever able to. She frowned and set the axe aside. Even if she went back to the battlefield, it would no longer be with her friend. In an attempt to stray such thoughts from her mind, she opened her bag and rummaged through its contents, in search of anything to spend time. Inside, a diary was protruding from one of the pack’s pockets.  
  
_Right, I was going to tell him after the battle_ , she remembered while taking it out of the bag. _Now that I think about it, I don’t even know what’s written inside it, besides what Ke’ri’s parents told me_.  
  
Absentmindedly, she opened it and skimmed through its contents. That Ke’ri was smitten with him was obvious: from the day the girl met him, she would write down how kind, strong and courageous he was. She seemed excited whenever she related their adventures together, her handwriting becoming more jittery as she confessed how often he’d sneak her in the slums he was living in, unbeknownst to the girl’s parents. The latest entry mentioned their plans to go out of town the following day, her only worry being the kind of sandwiches the boy would like. She frowned. It was a cruel world she was living in.  
  
"Cherche, it’s Cordelia. May I enter?" a voice called out from outside.  
  
"Of course. This is your tent too after all," she answered, setting the diary aside before quickly straightening both her hair and outfit. The redheaded pegasus rider soon entered the room, wearing a simple knee length red dress.  
  
"I was thinking that maybe you’d prefer some privacy," Cordelia explained with a contrite smile.  
  
"I’m fine, there’s no need for you to worry." Cherche replied, curling her lips just enough to play a faint smile.  
  
"I’m glad to hear that. Err... it’s fine if we sit, right?" the rider asked hesitantly.  
  
Cherche absentmindedly pointed to the side of her bed and sat on it, her example quickly followed by Cordelia.  
  
"You wanted to talk?" the knight asked, turning her head to the side to face the woman.  
  
Cordelia returned the gaze, peering into the eyes of the former wyvern rider.  
  
"That I did. I wanted to check on you, make sure you were alright, despite the circumstances."  
  
Cherche paused, pondering over her feelings for a few seconds. She obviously hadn’t recovered from the loss, a tight knot in her throat preventing her from breathing fully. Her heart ached from the grief, pulsating with waves of uneasiness. And yet, despite the loss, a faint feeling of tired acceptance had begun to spread through her body, numbing both her mind and body. The voice in her head calling for her to join the wyvern had quieted down, almost entirely replaced with the void feeling of weariness.  
  
"I’ll be alright. My body is steadily recovering from my injuries, albeit slowly," she finally replied warily, unwilling to share her conflicting emotions.  
  
Cordelia shook her head, visibly unsatisfied.  
  
"I am really glad to hear that. That said, this is this wound that worries me the most," Cordelia said, pointing her index at the center of the woman’s chest.  
  
Cherche turned her head to avoid the inquisitive gaze of her friend, her body warming up as her cheeks flushed red.  
  
"Please don’t," the knight almost begged, staring at the bed sheets to avoid catching any glimpse of the pegasus rider.  
  
"I’m sorry, I do not mean to pry. It’s just that…"  
  
Cordelia paused for a couple of seconds before starting over.  
  
"Look, I’m not the best at this, but know that however you feel is alright. You shouldn’t be ashamed, whether you feel sadness, anger… or nothing at all." she added after a brief hesitation.  
  
An irresistible shiver crossed Cherche’s body. Tensing up, she almost jolted up from her slump, much to the surprise of Cordelia. While unexpected, the young woman was spot on, placing words on the mess of emotions Cherche had been unable to sort. Her overwhelming sadness had steadily been replaced with numbness, the only she had found to be able to cope with her friend’s death.  
  
"Come again?" the knight asked confusedly.  
  
Cordelia rose her hands apologetically. "Sorry, I may have worded that wrong. How about this: I’ll tell you my own story first, and then we can go from there."  
  
Hesitant, unable to see where the woman was going at, Cherche nodded after a couple of seconds.  
  
"I wasn’t older than twelve when I joined the pegasus knights, back in Ylisse. My parents gone, I needed both company and a place to live. It was rough at first. My seniors made fun of me, taunting and poking fun at me whenever they got the opportunity. I was young and didn’t understand it was just the usual hazing of new recruits, their own way to bond with me. Eventually, I met Sumia. Like me, she was one of the youngest recruits. And yet, she was cheerful, always with a bright smile playing on her face even when the veterans teased her. One day, she started speaking with me, and we immediately became friends. In time, I learned to accept the veterans’ odd way at showing their affection, and they became something akin to a foster family."  
  
The pegasus rider’s expression noticeably grew morose, her visage falling down ever so slightly.  
  
"Everything fell apart when the Plegian war started, almost three years ago. While the army was away, the full might of the Plegians was led against the capital we were guarding. Overwhelmed, my sisters begged me to run and warn the Exalt. Sometimes, during the night, I can still hear their screams as I fled."  
  
Cordelia paused, biting her lower lip while she struggled to keep her composure. Oddly enough, her story was quite similar to the former wyvern’s rider own.  
  
"Did you… recover from this wound?"  
  
A faint smile shadowed over the face of Cordelia. "It never truly goes away, this is a scar I will have to bear forever. They say time heals all wounds, but I disagree. It merely lessens the pain."  
  
"I just want the pain to be gone," Cherche confessed, clutching the edge of her bed with her hands as she tried to keep a grip on herself. "I can feel it still, looming over me and ready to lunge at me the moment I lose my guard."  
  
Cordelia placed a hand over the knight’s own, relieving her of some of her distress. A bright, comforting smile was playing on the young rider’s face. "It does sound quite grim, doesn’t it? In truth, this wound will only bring you down if you let it."  
  
"Did you let it?"  
  
"I did, at first. Whenever I was alone, I cried so much I would often pass out from the exhaustion. I blamed myself. Too weak to defend what I swore to protect, I ran away. Sometimes, the pain was so bad I considered departing this world, so that I could be reunited with my family."  
  
Cherche winced, avoiding the woman’s look. The more she spoke, the more striking were the similarities with her own past.  
  
"It was Sumia, once again, that broke this spiral of self-pity. She told me our sisters kept me alive not because I was weak, but because I could live to fight another day. To give up the fight now would be betraying their trust. They sacrificed their lives for me, and I intend to repay this debt by fighting until Ylisse stand victorious. Dead or not, the bond with my sisters is still there and gives me the strength to carry on and protect my new friends."  
  
She paused, showing an unexpected facetious smile. "That includes taking care of you when you feel down, so make sure not to stay alone, alright? I am always ready to lend you an ear whenever you need, and so will be the others."  
  
Cherche’s body was tingling, swept by a stream of gratitude. She felt the knot in her throat loosening up, her eyes watering as overwhelming emotions she didn’t have the time to sort yet infected the steady beating of her heart.  
  
She brought a hand to her eyes, wiping them before the tears could form up and flow. "You are too kind. I’ll keep that offer in mind, I don’t want to make people worry about me."  
  
Cordelia’s expression grew sullen as she withdrew her comforting hand. "About that… I spoke with Lon’qu while you were unconscious. He blames himself for what happened, and it obviously weighs heavily on him. I’m worried he may try something reckless."  
  
The pegasus rider stood up and took a step toward the entrance before turning to the woman. "I should probably let you have some privacy. Just remember that what happened wasn’t for nothing, you did save the life of Lon’qu after all."  
  
As painful as admitting it was, Cordelia was right. The sacrifice of Minerva had not been in vain. Thanks to her, the swordsman was still alive. She looked aside for a brief moment, on the nearby nightstand where the diary laid. She had kept its contents a secret for too long already. Determined, she stood up as well with a newfound resolve.  
  
"I will speak with him now, actually. Can you tell me where he is?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey again, with a short chapter that wasn't actually fully planned from the beginning. I ended up writing this scene anyway and I feel like it was pretty important both for the story and character development and deserved to be a whole chapter. I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Will Cherche finally reveal the diary's contents soon, I wonder.


End file.
